


Hakuōki Shenanigumi Kitan

by Shenanigumi (AlleyCatSunflower)



Category: Hakuouki
Genre: F/M, Ficlet Collection, M/M, Multi, Originally Posted on Tumblr
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-11-13
Updated: 2018-07-12
Packaged: 2019-06-01 12:04:25
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 70
Words: 47,648
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15142697
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AlleyCatSunflower/pseuds/Shenanigumi
Summary: Most of the many drabbles and ficlets I've posted on Tumblr (as shenanigumi) over the years, whether as requests or just because I could! Genre ranges from humor to tragedy, so I'm not even going to try tagging the entire work accordingly. Rating likewise ranges from T to E, so I also won't be rating the work as a whole. I will, however, include slightly more precise notes about content and rating at the beginning of each installment.





	1. "It's your life, live it how you want."

**Author's Note:**

> **Disclaimer:** I can't vouch for the quality of my work, especially in the beginning, since this starts years back and I like to think I've improved since then. Besides that, I consider a lot of these to be warmups and characterization practice. But I hope you enjoy all the same!

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hijikata's route: Hijikata and Kondou bromance; HijiChi. Rated M. Originally requested by moon-faced-pear-shaped.

“ _Really_ , though,” continues Kondou, and there’s a dull thud as he leans against the wall just outside the door. Pausing to dip his brush in the inkwell again, Hijikata heaves a deep and faintly queasy sigh, wondering why they’re both still awake. “It’s your life. Live it how you want.”

“I do, mostly,” says Hijikata, struggling to find a polite way to explain that he stopped worrying about whether he was doing the Right Thing about the same time he started drinking. “Which is why I’m now drunk in my room.” He tries to stop himself, but his mouth keeps moving, and more damning words tumble out: “Writing erotica.”

He can practically feel Kondou’s shock and disapproval seeping under the door from outside, but he can’t really take it back now. He’s made his bed, and now he’s going to lie in it… alone… again. (God damn it.) “T-Toshi,” stammers Kondou, clearing his throat almost nervously. “Are you really…?”

“Good  _night_ , Kondou-san,” responds Hijikata pointedly, and turns back to his… work… somewhat uneasily. Kondou hesitates for a moment, but his footsteps thankfully retreat before too long, although he seems too stunned to return his good-night wishes.

“Right,” mutters Hijikata to himself, vaguely conscious of the fact that he’ll probably have to apologize for the terseness of exchange in the morning, but he’s a little preoccupied at the moment. “Back to work. ‘With desire in her eyes, Chizuru begged me—I mean, begged  _him_ , to…’” He bites his lip. “No, no, that’s too obvious. I’ll call her… Yuki. Yeah. ‘Yuki begged him to take—’”

“Hijikata-san?” asks Chizuru’s voice, and Hijikata swears aloud, reflexively slamming his book shut as his heart almost stops in panic. Her? Now?  _Why_?! Amid the alarm and confusion and lack of sobriety, there’s barely enough space in his head for relief at the fact that Chizuru seems to have no intention of coming inside.

“Y-Yukimura,” growls Hijikata, gripping the edge of his desk to steady himself. “What do you want?” If she wants to come in and take off her clothes so he can jot down an accurate description before playing out the rest of the scene, he’s just drunk enough to be willing to consider it—but he’s still too sober to think that’s probable. More likely, she’s just being her usual concerned self.

He can almost sense Chizuru flinch at his flinty tone, but to her credit, she perseveres. “I’m sorry! I… I just thought I heard my name,” she tells him timidly. “I must have been mistaken. But I was looking for Kondou-san,” she adds, “and he said he was going to visit you, so…”

“He… just left,” responds Hijikata shortly, his heart finally beginning to slow down again.

“O-oh,” responds Chizuru awkwardly. “Thank you! I’m sorry! Good night!” Her light feet pad away as swiftly as her parting was delivered, and Hijikata lets out a long sigh, taking a deep breath in an effort to compose himself. That was…  _way_ too close. Maybe he should consider just going to bed…

But no. As soon as he’s sure the coast is clear once more, Hijikata opens up his book again and sets right back to work. If he wants to get to sleep, he and this scene—not on altogether unrelated notes—both need to finish tonight.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Fanart by [nollatooru](https://nollatooru.tumblr.com/post/154972167861/the-full-story-is-here-by-shenanigumi)!


	2. "What time of day am I supposed to do it?"

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Saito's route: somewhat ambiguous OkiSai. Rated M. Originally requested by moon-faced-pear-shaped.

“ _So_ , Hajime-kun,” says Okita, stepping out of his room to ambush Saito in the corridor. Saito stops short, narrowing his eyes almost imperceptibly. That expression—cold eyes combined with a smile curling at the corners of his mouth—usually means trouble. “I hear you’ve asked Hijikata-san to let you switch rooms. It’s not because you’re worried you’re gonna catch my cold, is it?”

Okita’s words are just sharp enough that Saito knows he’s heard about how he took care of Chizuru when she fell ill. Fortunately, that’s not the reason behind Saito’s request to move, so Okita won’t get the satisfaction of pointing that out. More accurately, the single wall between their rooms is  _very_  thin, and Saito is an extraordinarily light sleeper. Those facts, combined with Okita’s latest…  _hobby_ , means that rest has become difficult to come by, of late.

“Because you touch yourself at night,” says Saito, as delicately as possible, although he can still feel the heat flood his cheeks. He doesn’t indulge in such… activities… himself, but living for several years with several men who  _do_ , he knows exactly what Okita gets up to.

Okita, not the least bit embarrassed, merely stares at him for a few moments as if waiting for him to get to the point. “What time of day am I supposed to do it?” he snorts, defensive and unapologetic.

“At a time when I am  _not_ in the next room,” says Saito as matter-of-factly as possible, slipping his hands into his sleeves uncomfortably. “I’ve lost several hours’ worth of sleep over the past several weeks, you know. Your late-night rustlings are going to interfere with my ability to concentrate on my work if they go on for much longer.”

“It’s not like I specifically wait for a time when you’re around to hear me,” says Okita, raising his eyebrows. “I mean, you can hang around in your room all day tomorrow and listen in for more. Besides,” he adds, giving the ghost of his usual cocky smile, “I’m just too good to be quiet. If you want me to shut up, you can come in and gag me with that scarf.”

“Souji,” warns Saito, tensing, and tries in vain to ignore his rapidly heightening color. Even the dimness of the hallway can’t keep Okita’s piercing eyes from ascertaining his blush, as Saito notes a twitch at the corner of his mouth.  
  
“Yeah, yeah,” sighs Okita even as he speaks, waving a flippant yet weary hand. “I know; this isn’t really your area. But I’m telling you, whether you go through with the move or not, you should take some time to play with yourself sometime too,” he says, turning away. “Once you figure out what you’re missing, you might understand.“

Saito can only stare blankly at Okita’s back as he retreats into his room, as shameless as ever. In a way, he thinks, he admires his transparency… but that doesn’t mean he’s prepared to take his advice.

…Not when he knows exactly how thin those walls really are, anyway.


	3. "You deserve to see them, like, all the time."

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Unspecified route: suggestive AmaGiku. Rated M. Originally requested by doodlethewhiteraven.

****Ordinarily, it is the customer who summons the geisha. Tonight, the geisha has summoned the customer… at least, inasmuch as Amagiri counts as a customer given that he is in the Sumi exclusively on Satsuma orders.

As he follows the apprentice to the private room he is informed is Kimigiku’s, he wonders what she wants with him. He is prepared for another request for information (as seems to have become tradition), or perhaps a polite offer to pour him sake as repayment for his assistance.

He is decidedly  _un_ prepared for the vision of naked female beauty lying stretched out on the bed.

Halting in his tracks, Amagiri finds his ears and mind both consumed with a wordless roaring, staring blindly at the woman before him. By the time he comes back to himself and—at a loss for what else to do—glances backward, the apprentice has already slid the door shut behind him.

“Kimigiku-san,” begins Amagiri uncertainly, bowing his head and averting his eyes out of respect. “I… what do you…?” He clears his throat, trying to occupy his bewildered mind with remembering the last time he was speechless.

“Please relax, Amagiri-han,” murmurs Kimigiku, sitting up in his peripheral vision, but he cannot bring himself to look at her yet. He’s stared long enough already. “I simply feel as though I do not show you my body enough. You deserve to see it much more often.”

“Why…?” asks Amagiri, and though his voice sounds strangled to his own ears, he is at least able to produce a complete sentence. (Thank the gods.)

Kimigiku smiles at him encouragingly, and he dares to look up at her once more. A creature so beautiful need not be  _ashamed_  of herself, but her confidence in almost complete nudity is staggering. Yet she is demure, too, modesty in her every mannerism. Her behavior is… mesmerizing.

Amagiri only realizes that Kimigiku has been speaking as her light, lilting laugh finally draws him out of his thoughts. “My apologies for the impropriety of my actions,” she says, perhaps misreading his expression. “I simply believed it would be best if I made my intentions clear as soon as possible.”

Moistening his lips reflexively, Amagiri notices that she already has a table prepared. “Let us take this slowly, Kimigiku-san,” he says, kneeling next to it. “Sake is more than enough repayment for now.”

A frown flickers across Kimigiku’s face, but she masks it quickly and dips her head, reaching for her many robes. “There is no need to cover yourself,” smiles Amagiri, his gaze fixed on the empty cup before him—full of Kimigiku’s loveliness, in his eyes. “I only meant that there will be more time later.”


	4. "What is wrong with you?"

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Okita's route: Hijikata and Okita angst; implied OkiChi. Rated T. Originally requested by moon-faced-pear-shaped.

“Sticking around, are you?” asks Hijikata, the moment he senses Okita step into his tent without asking. He knows it’s not true, of course, but it’s as good a way of any as finding out what  _is_. “I thought you and Yukimura were headed your own way.”

“We are,” says Okita, crossing his arms. “But it’s been a long day, and Chizuru-chan needs her rest. We’ll get moving in a couple hours.”

Hijikata frowns, halting mid-nod. “Only a couple hours, huh?” he asks, surprised, and peers more closely at Okita. Maybe this is just how they’ve learned to compromise, but he’d have thought he’d sacrifice his own comfort as a fury for her sake.

A strange smile twists Okita’s lips as he notes Hijikata’s expression. “She’s a fury, Hijikata-san,” he says, and he stops dead, staring at him. “We have to leave before dawn, or we won’t be getting anywhere. All she needs is enough to keep her strength up, she says.”

“She’s… a fury,” repeats Hijikata, narrowing his eyes. He knows better than to think this is another of Okita’s jokes, of course, but something inside him refuses to believe it. (Maybe it’s because he didn’t even know demons  _could_ become furies.) “How…?”

“Does it matter?” asks Okita, a little too quickly, his eyes flashing like lightning. Hijikata knows that questioning the circumstances has touched a sore spot, but can’t bring himself to ease up his glare; after that, he feels he’s owed an explanation. “If you’re worried she’ll lose herself on my watch, don’t be. If she snaps, I’ll kill her.”

“What is  _wrong_  with you?” asks Hijikata, his voice hushed. He doesn’t really mean it, of course, but he can’t stop himself from asking.

Okita doesn’t even bristle. Maybe he expects it. “Many, many things,” he answers shortly, his grip on his arms tightening. “And most of them are  _your fucking fault_ , Hijikata-san.”

Their eyes lock, and in that instant pass eighteen years of shared history. Hijikata still sees the little boy Kondou introduced to him as the best fighter in the class; Okita’s pale green eyes already ascertaining all his weaknesses. Aggression is both his offense and his defense, his sword and armor—the only way he ever learned to protect himself.

…And those he loves. Kondou was always like an older brother to him, but that trust and faith never extended to Hijikata. To Okita, the world is black and white, and Hijikata has always been the darkness to Kondou’s light. The funny thing is, Hijikata himself has come to consider himself the chief’s shadow over the years. Okita just saw it long before the thought crossed anyone else’s mind.

He hasn’t changed a bit, thinks Hijikata, and finally looks away to break the flow of years. Only this time, he’s lashing out to protect Chizuru too.

To Hijikata’s surprise, Okita shakes his head. “N-no,” he continues, almost as though responding to someone else, or to Hijikata’s thoughts. “I…  _want_ to be able to blame you. For everything.” He swallows, his voice cracking. “And especially for sending Chizuru-chan away to take care of me, instead of keeping her safe. I  _want_  to hate you, Hijikata-san.”

Hijikata waits as Okita takes a deep breath; no response seems to be required of him yet. “But I know… it’s my fault,” says Okita. “It was my mistake. I didn’t save her, just like you didn’t save Kondou-san, and now we’re all suffering.” He looks Hijikata in the eye once more. “You’re taking care of the Shinsengumi for his sake, and I’m going with Chizuru-chan for hers. It’s the least I can do after failing her once.”

There is a pause while they both gather their thoughts, processing Okita’s outburst, and Hijikata eventually heaves a sigh. “I already knew your mind was made up,” he says. “Why bother explaining? You know I wouldn’t have asked.”

“I just thought… I owed you that much,” says Okita, almost uncertainly. “For… everything. That’s all.” He does not offer thanks, but Hijikata senses an undercurrent of both gratitude and apology in his words all the same, and dips his head by way of equally unspoken acceptance and dismissal.

As Okita bows, hesitates, and finally takes his leave, Hijikata smiles wearily and pours himself some tea. Perhaps the boy he once knew has grown up after all.


	5. "On the plus side…"

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Unspecified route: Demon Trio humor. Rated T.

Someone  _has_ to have drugged them, thinks Kazama, still coming to. The last thing he recalls with any kind of clarity is himself and Amagiri drinking with  _Shiranui_ , of all people, attended by… oh, what’s her name. Kimigiku, or something. He supposes that’s because no matter how important that Satsuma meeting is, drinking with the humans never fails to kill Kazama’s buzz.

But he has a high enough tolerance that he  _never_ blacks out, so why…? The half-formed thought is interrupted as Kazama realizes that something about his face doesn’t feel right. Heavy…? That seems like a good word. Probably just the drugs, he thinks, and sits up woozily.

The first thing he notices is that there are two unfamiliar women in the room. Frowning, Kazama blinks and rubs his eyes: no, there are two familiar  _men_ in the room, both dressed like geisha, and they both appear to have awakened some time ago. Amagiri is facing the wall and scrubbing furiously at his face, but Shiranui appears to be practicing pouring sake. (And drinking it, of course.)

A horrifying thought occurs to Kazama, and he glances down. He’s shocked, but somehow not surprised, to realize that he’s  _also_  wearing an elaborate feminine kimono, and he can only imagine what his face looks like. “ _Shiranui_ ,” growls Kazama, addressing the more outwardly composed of his two companions. “What happened.”

Shiranui flutters his lashes innocently. “Don’t act like this is my fault somehow,  _Kazama-han_ ,” he tells him pointedly. “We all woke up crossdressing with no idea why we’re crossdressing. On the plus side,” he adds, downing another cup of sake and winking into a mirror on the wall, “this shade of lipstick looks  _really_ good on me.”

“You’re  _not_   _helping_ ,” snaps Kazama.

“Oh good, you’re awake,” remarks a voice from the other side of the door, and Kazama stiffens. Who…?  _Sen_. “I’m really sorry, but the three of you would only get in the way of Chizuru-chan’s investigation,” she continues. “There’s no way we could physically overpower you, but… your pride is an easy target.”

“You could have simply  _asked_ ,” responds Amagiri faintly, somewhere between miffed and forlorn, though his voice is muffled as he does not raise his face from his knees. “What happened to our clothes?”

“My apologies, Amagiri-han,” says Kimigiku’s voice, calm yet amused as always—giving away little of what she was really thinking or feeling. “We have them in our custody and will return them to you as soon as Chizuru-chan has completed her mission. In the meantime, please enjoy as much sake as you like—free of charge.”

Kazama is still too stunned to say anything, and neither Amagiri nor Shiranui have anything more to offer (although the latter hums an appreciative “Sweet” at the prospects of free alcohol), so two pairs of light footsteps make their way down the hall without further ado.

…Only as they abscond does Kazama realize that for them to have dressed them like this, they had to have stripped them first—and flushes in anger as much as in embarrassment. Propriety be damned, he’ll do the same to at least one of them someday, and never look back.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Fanart by [nollatooru](https://nollatooru.tumblr.com/post/155891445111/how-could-i-have-missed-this-post-wonderful)!


	6. "That isn't a reason to be angry at me."

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Unspecified route: KazaSen. Rated E. Originally requested by moon-faced-pear-shaped.

It’s a long time before Sen can catch her breath for more than one reason tonight.

The coughing has forced her from her knees to all fours, and though everything seems to be staying down, there was a moment or two when she thought it wouldn’t. “What was  _that_?” splutters Sen eventually, looking over at Kazama again, and wipes her mouth.

“What was  _what_?” he returns coolly, already lying back atop their bed (still cooling off), and quirks an eyebrow quite as though he is  _not_ currently watching his wife’s most embarrassing near-death experience yet.

Sen clears her burning throat. “That was an utterly  _unreasonable_  amount of—of ejaculate!” she exclaims, glaring over at him, and reaches for the jug of water they keep handy to take an experimental draught. Good; at least she can still swallow things.

“An ‘unreasonable amount of ejaculate’ isn’t a reason to be angry at me,” sighs Kazama matter-of-factly.

“It is when I almost  _choke_  on it, Chikage,” growls Sen, taking another sullen sip.

Kazama only shrugs, as maddeningly calm as ever. “If anything, you should take it as a compliment,” he tells her, and she narrowly resists the urge to hurl the jug of water at his head. “I may not love you by a long shot, but it’s clear enough that my body does.”

“I wish I could say the same for mine,” mutters Sen resentfully, taking up the jug and scooting over to sit beside Kazama atop the futon. “If you  _ever_  want me to try that again, you’re going to spend a solid hour doing the same to me tomorrow night.“ (He’s already remarkably talented, but practice is never a bad idea.)

The corner of Kazama’s mouth tugs up, and his hand finds hers; Sen doesn’t have the strength or the will to pull it away. “Is that supposed to be some sort of punishment?” he asked, raising her fingers to his lips. “ _Please_.” His tongue flicks out, tracing the pads of her fingers as if in a promise of what’s to come, and his eyes burn as ardently as though their night has just begun.

He should know better than to show his hand like that; from now on, Sen will use it as a reward, but there’s no need for him to know that. Especially since there are a few more important things to talk about, such as—“You  _just_  finished,” gasps Sen, and she should know. “And it hasn’t been too long for me, either. And we have to… be up early t-tomorrow, and…”

Her voice trails off into a squeal, excited despite herself, as Kazama draws her forward into a kiss—heedless, for once, of his taste on her lips. Already preparing herself for round two, Sen is slowly consumed and corrupted by the same desire he always feels. All excuses vanish from her lips, all thoughts from her mind, except one.

…Sen still doesn’t love Kazama. She  _can’t_. But, contrary to all her assertions… well, her body just might after all.


	7. "You're a pretty crier, I don't get it."

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hijikata's route: HijiChi. Rated T.

Chizuru rests her hand on the doorknob, trying in vain to suppress her tears. She’d only wanted to bring Hijikata tea; there was no need for him to snap at her like that, much less remind her that he hadn’t asked her to come back in the first place. Still, she knows that with hopeless wars comes redirected frustration, so she’ll bear it as best she can if it makes Hijikata feel better.

“Chizuru,” says Hijikata suddenly, and she halts, glancing back hopefully… but he only meets her eyes for a split second before he looks away. Chizuru frowns, wondering what’s wrong; is he too hot? His cheeks seem a little rosier than usual. But then, maybe that’s just the sunset…?

“I’m sorry I’ve been… mean, recently,” stammers Hijikata, and Chizuru smiles in relief; he’s already forgiven. “But to be honest,” he continues, before she can tell him so, “it really… t-turns me on, seeing you cry. So. It might happen a lot.”

Chizuru tilts her head uncertainly, not sure what he means by that. It  _interests_ him? She’s never thought of crying as  _interesting_  before, but she supposes Hijikata probably doesn’t see it too often, much less do it himself. That’s probably why, she reasons.

“Oh,” says Chizuru, finally remembering to respond, and wonders why Hijikata isn’t looking at her if he thinks her tears are so  _interesting_. “Well, you know I cry at everything, so… I’m sure you’ll get to see it again?” She doesn’t know what else she’s supposed to say.

Hijikata doesn’t seem to be listening; Chizuru can’t tell whether she’s supposed to hear him or not. “You’re a pretty crier,” he mutters, running an agitated hand through his hair. “I don’t get it.”

Chizuru feels herself flush at the unexpected compliment; if she was carrying something, she’d drop it. “S-sir!” she squeaks, wide-eyed, and turns away just as he glances over at her again. “I—I’ll go get you some snacks. T-to go with the tea. I’ll be back later!”

Wrenching open the door, Chizuru closes it behind her and flees down the hall, but within a few steps realizes that she’s beaming… and that her eyes have started overflowing again. Perhaps, she thinks (smiling still more widely), she’ll tell Hijikata for both their sakes that she  _also_  cries when she’s happy.


	8. "And besides a nice relationship…"

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Heisuke's route: Idiot Trio bromance; mild HeiChi. Rated T. Originally requested by doodlethewhiteraven.

“Don’t worry,” says Nagakura, smiling down at Heisuke almost patronizingly. “We’ll come back safely. We always do.”

“I’m not worried!” exclaims Heisuke, clenching his fists. “If anyone’s gonna kill you two, it’s gonna be me, and it’s gonna be because you two drank all the good sake. I’m  _not_  worried.” He realizes too late that he’s already said that, and the glance Harada and Nagakura exchange tells him that they’ve noticed too.

“And you’ll keep Chizuru-chan safe for us, won’t you?” adds Harada, leaning on his spear and raising his eyebrows playfully.

“Not just for you,” snaps Heisuke, bristling, and shifts into a steadier stance almost as though readying himself for some kind of combat. “I’ll protect her for  _her_ , and for me, too.”

“Sounds like you’ve got yourself a real nice relationship there, Heisuke,” snickers Nagakura, although there’s something almost wistful in his tone. He’s never had a real girlfriend, after all. Not that Chizuru is Heisuke’s girlfriend, he amends to himself, but…!

“Yeah, we do,” says Heisuke proudly, nodding once in affirmation. “She’s cute and sweet and means the world to me. But… besides a nice relationship,” he mumbles, a sudden thought overtaking him as he realizes that there’s not much more time for advice, “I just… really wanna get laid, damn it.”

There’s a brief moment of silence, and Heisuke worries for a moment that he’s said too much, but Harada and Nagakura’s stunned masks soon crack into wide smiles. “It’s about time,” chortles Nagakura, smacking him on the back. “Late bloomer, much?”

“He just didn’t feel like throwing himself away on some geisha like you do, Shinpachi,” jokes Harada, shoving Nagakura playfully. “Now that he’s found himself a proper girlfriend, things are a little bit different. Good luck, Heisuke.”

“She’s not my—!” begins Heisuke desperately, running his hands through his hair. That’s part of the problem…! But before he can even finish his sentence, much less beg their advice at the last minute, a soft voice interrupts him.

“Heisuke-kun?” calls Chizuru, thankfully from a distance, and Heisuke jumps and yelps like a startled puppy. Nagakura snorts and mutters something about how he doesn’t even need to be in his room to go rigid when she says his name, but the exact words are lost as Harada covers his mouth to muffle the sounds.

“Ch-Chizuru,” responds Heisuke, stirring himself out of his stupor long enough to turn and call to her. “Over here!”

She pops into view so suddenly that he realizes she wasn’t too far away after all, and wonders whether she somehow overheard them—but as long as Harada is keeping Nagakura from saying any  _more_ , he probably doesn’t have anything to worry about.

“Well, well,” says Harada, still with his hands wrapped around Nagakura’s head, although his voice is light and casual as ever. “We were just leaving, but it’s nice to get a chance to say goodbye. Be a good girl for Heisuke, Chizuru-chan.”

She blinks a few times, nonplussed. “I—I’ll do my best,” she responds, bowing politely as Harada drags Nagakura off, ignoring his waves and flails. “Take care, Harada-san… Nagakura-san…?” She sounds almost like she’s asking a question, but she never gets an answer, as the two of them vanish out the front gate, still bickering half-incoherently.

“They’re going to come back, aren’t they?” she asks Heisuke, turning to him with concern shimmering in her eyes.

He smiles at her as reassuringly as he can. “Of course they are,” he tells her. “They were just teasing me about something that hasn’t even happened yet. They’d never pass up the chance to tease me again when it  _does_.”


	9. "I'm gonna friendzone myself."

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Harada's route: somewhat ambiguous NagaChi. Rated T.

Nagakura takes a deep breath. He’s known this day would come ever since Harada first started hitting on Chizuru, way back when. This is the day—er, night, he supposes—Nagakura explains to her, in the interest of being a good wingman, that he does not in fact have feelings for her.

(Well, feelings apart from those of a sexually confused and frustrated much older stepbrother, anyway.)

“Chizuru-chan,” he says, stopping her mid-mission as she gets back from taking another message. Hijikata’s got her even busier than usual, apparently. “Got a minute?”

She stops immediately, of course. What a good girl she is; Harada definitely has a type. “Nagakura-san,” Chizuru greets him, bowing, and  _somehow_  manages to look enthusiastic despite the crushing certainty of their future loss. “Can I help you with anything?”

Another deep breath. This is the moment of truth.

Nagakura deliberates… and deliberates… and can’t figure out where he should even start. It’s probably not a good idea to assume  _Chizuru_ assumes he’s in love with her, so he can’t just come right out and say it. Nor should he assume she’s as oblivious as he is, because that might offend her.

Eventually, he rests a hand briefly on her head, ruffling her hair awkwardly. "Long story short,” says Nagakura, forcing his fingers away from her soft silky hair, “I’m gonna friendzone myself so you don’t have to.” He clears his throat, glancing away, and swears he’s blushing for some reason. (Thank the gods it’s too dark to see.) “That’s all.”

Chizuru nods haltingly, straightening out her hair again, and takes a few steps away. Nagakura dares to breathe a sigh of relief… but almost chokes on it as she whirls around again, throwing caution to the winds, and looks him curiously up and down.

“Nagakura-san,” says Chizuru hesitantly, tilting her head in a way that can only be described as ‘adorable’. Oh no. “What’s ‘friendzone’?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Fanart by [nollatooru](https://nollatooru.tumblr.com/post/155111925206/nagakura-friendzoning-himself-by-shenanigumi)!


	10. "You heartless bastard!"

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Harada's route: somewhat suggestive KazaSen. Rated T.

“You… saw… Chizuru-chan?”

To say Sen is shocked by this news would be an understatement. Neither she nor Kazama have encountered Chizuru since before the Battle of Toba-Fushimi. In fact, Kimigiku actually informed Sen some time ago that she was no longer traveling with the Shinsengumi. That, combined with Chizuru’s unfortunate penchant for catapulting herself into situations which require self-sacrifice, meant that they assumed she was dead.

“I almost wish I hadn’t,” says Kazama, raising his eyebrows, and continues unlacing his boots. Western wear may be cumbersome, but his fingers are nimble—as Sen knows well enough. “She may no longer be traveling with the Shinsengumi, but she still keeps the company of one of the officers. The idiot Shiranui refuses to admit he loves.”

Harada. Sen smiles to herself in relief and joy; Chizuru is not only alive, but in good hands. “I’m so pleased for her,” she laughs, a rush of giddiness almost compelling her to scramble over and embrace Kazama. “How delightful, to marry for love.” And if they are not yet married, she reasons, they soon will be. Sen’s judgments of character have never proven faulty yet, and Harada is not the sort of man to trifle with Chizuru’s affections.

“Hmph,” snorts Kazama, eyeing her expression. “If I’d had my way, she’d make a  _good_  match, love be damned. The only reason I didn’t kill him and take Chizuru with me is because Shiranui hates me enough already, and I can’t afford to offend him by breaking his favorite toy.”

“You would  _not_ take Chizuru,” asserts Sen, the smile slipping off her face and crashing to the floor, and she glares at him. She has several problems with Kazama’s most recent outburst, but threatening Chizuru is the last straw. He should have known better.

Kazama, of course, only sneers at her. “You couldn’t have stopped me,” he tells her scornfully. “If I wanted to bring Chizuru back with me, no power on heaven or earth could deter me. It may surprise you to know that you are included among those.”

“If you ever say anything like that again,” growls Sen, “you will  _not_  get to see my breasts tonight or in the near future, you heartless bastard!” If the hickey over her heart is anything to go by, they’re among the more appreciated parts of her body. Sure enough, as soon as the threat is made, she finds that Kazama is now paying  _rapt_  attention to her demands.

Rising to her feet, she stands over him as imposingly as she can; he does not break eye contact, but shifts uneasily all the same.  _Good_. “The moment our bargain was sealed,” hisses Sen, “I gave my body over to you and you alone, and I expect no less from  _you_.” As Kazama stares up at her, his mouth slightly open, she leans down to take him by the collar, readjusting her stance. “Am I understood?” she barks, shaking him once.

Kazama’s eyes are unfocused at first, but quickly sharpen, and he gets slowly to his feet. “Do you take me for a scoundrel?” he asks. “Don’t answer that!” he adds vehemently, and looks down at her imperiously. (The gap between them may be shorter without his boots, but he is still several inches taller.) “I meant only that Chizuru is a demon, and as such, she ought to associate with demons. I have no intention of marrying her now.”

“ _Excuse_ me if the last several times you’ve encountered Chizuru-chan have resulted in your attempting to abduct her,” shoots back Sen, too fired up to concede. “You really ought to make your intentions clearer instead of furthering misunderstandings and starting arguments.”

And with that, the row ends, with neither apology nor conciliation. There is a long silence while the two of them attempt to unwind anyway, breathing hard just from the quarrel and their proximity. (Sen has found over the months that it’s impossible for either of them to truly relax around one another.)

They still do not speak, but Kazama finally stirs, drawing Sen forward by her sash and leaning in close to nestle his face in her neck. “Were you worried I would leave you?” he mumbles, his lips brushing her skin, and Sen shivers. “Or  _jealous_ , perhaps? You know I don’t love you.”

“I—I was _not_ ,” she tells him, wishing she sounded as sincere as she felt. “And I know you don’t.” She smiles, pushing him back half-lightly, and fiercely starts unbuttoning his coat. They’ve wasted enough time talking already; time to work out their last lingering scraps of resentment the only way they know how. “I don’t love you, too.”


	11. "I am a man of my word."

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Saito's route: SaiChi. Rated T. Originally requested by doodlethewhiteraven.

“Yukimura,” begins Saito, standing outside Chizuru’s door. “Do you have a moment?”

“Saito-san…?” asks her incredulous voice, a split second before her feet scramble forward and the door slides open. “I thought you were staying in the inn. Has Hijikata-san let you move back into the compound already?”

Saito shakes his head, glancing around furtively. He has no doubts that Chizuru will keep him hidden, but in the meantime, he can’t afford to loiter anyplace where the others might see him. Too many of the men think him a traitor and a coward to be reasonable about his presence, after all. “May I come inside?”

“Of course,” says Chizuru, stepping aside to let him pass. Saito has only been in her room once, and she thinks it was a dream; he glances around to reassure her that this is a new place, but she is more occupied with closing the door behind him.

As Chizuru turns to face him, Saito closes his eyes to steady himself. “I may be asexual, but I owe you a favor from yesterday,” he announces matter-of-factly, unable to bear the thought of beating around the bush. “I am a man of my word.”

Chizuru flutters her lashes, and Saito can almost hear her heart skip a beat. “A-a…  _sexual_?” she asks, flushing. “What are you t-talking about…? And all I did was deliver a message for Hijikata-san…!” Her voice is panicky, but only out of confusion. The poor girl is overwhelmed.

Sensing a slight misstep on his part, Saito clears his throat and prepares to explain himself. “I… I know,” he says, unable to meet her curious and alarmed eyes any longer. “Nonetheless, I have been looking for an opportunity to help you for some time, so please let me take it.”

“Help me?” repeats Chizuru faintly.

Saito nods. “The demons are only after you because Kazama wishes to make you his wife, correct?” he asks. “Then it stands to reason that they may not come after you if you are already wed. Since Hijikata-san does not seem to have considered this, it falls to me to—”

“S-Saito-san,” gasps Chizuru, raising a hand to her heart, and Saito cuts himself off, grateful for the interruption. If he kept on much longer, he’d start to ramble. “Are you asking me… to m-marry you?”

Despite his best efforts, a blush creeps slowly up Saito’s cheeks, and he can already feel his ears start to burn. Damn it; he had been hoping to avoid making a fool of himself. “I-if you want to put it that way,” he stammers, not meeting her eyes. “I can’t guarantee the demons won’t attack again, of course, but at the very least you should be safer—”

Chizuru’s eyes flash, and Saito feels for a moment that he has been frozen in place, as his mouth abruptly stops moving. “I—I’m sorry, Saito-san, but I can’t marry you,” she tells him, and Saito realizes that her eyes are full of tears. Why? “I know it’s childish, but I want to marry for  _love_.”

“Ah,” says Saito, brought up short, and swallows. He doesn’t know what love feels like, so he can’t say for sure… but he’s relatively certain that if he loves anyone, he loves Chizuru.

…Still, there’s no way Saito can tell her so. He’d either end up offering so many disclaimers on the nature of his affection that she’d get even more confused, or he’d suppress all his doubts, sound insincere, and she wouldn’t believe him to begin with.

Taking a deep breath, Chizuru clenches her fist as if to stabilize herself. “Th-thank you very much for your concern, Saito-san,” she says, and her voice may be cold and broken, but her words are genuine. “But please… I’ll be fine.” She hesitates, dropping her gaze. “Ask me again when you love me.”

She makes no effort to shoo him away, but Saito senses his dismissal. Bowing briefly, he makes his way numbly back out the door; there is nothing else to discuss. He had thought that he would be able to bypass the feelings talk entirely by letting his actions speak more loudly—Nagakura has always told him ladies like an assertive man—but alas, it seems that the way to Chizuru’s heart is more complicated than he thought.

Only as Saito leaves the compound does he consider Chizuru’s phrasing, and stops short in the dead of night. Not  _if_ he loves her, but  _when_? What does she have planned…?


	12. "Why is everyone judging me?"

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Okita's route: Okita and Yamazaki rivalry; mild OkiChi. Rated T.

At first, Chizuru thinks Okita is talking to Yamazaki… until she catches a fragment of what he’s saying.

“You’re a good girl, aren’t you?” says Okita, a smile in his voice. “Here, sit on my lap. See, doesn’t it feel nice?” There is no response, or at least, not an audible one. “Chizuru-chan may not have said so, but I know she thinks so too. She spent enough time on top of me that one night, when she tripped.”

Chizuru swallows, her heart in her throat, but dares not interrupt lest she make a fool of herself and/or anger Okita. Still, as much as it hurts to think of what might be going on, she can’t bring herself to walk away, either. Especially not now that she’s been mentioned.

“Who’s Chizuru-chan, you ask?” laughs Okita, although Chizuru heard no such question. “I don’t think you’re the type to care, so I’ll just tell you about something she did one time instead. That should tell you the kind of girl she is. How about it?”

Again, Chizuru can’t hear a response, but Okita chuckles all the same. “See, there was this one time when Hajime-kun and Yamazaki-kun and I were all chasing after someone just like you,” he says. “Imagine yourself, curled up just like this. Maybe taking a nap in the sunlight.”

His voice turns wistful, and Chizuru knows he’s thinking of how painful the sun has become for him. “And then I come over and pick you up,” continues Okita. “I think I’m still in love, even after all you put me through. But Chizuru-chan takes you away from me and tells me I’m going to hurt you, and teaches me how to do it right.”

Chizuru doesn’t realize Yamazaki has appeared next to her until he speaks from just behind her. “Is Okita-san…  _talking_  to someone?” he asks, just as perplexed as Chizuru herself. “I thought it was you, but if you’re out here, then—”

“There’s a good girl,” murmurs Okita. “That feels better, doesn’t it?”

Yamazaki’s eyes widen, and he jumps past Chizuru to snap the door open. Okita glances up, startled, and Chizuru peers past Yamazaki to find a sudden, tiny blur of motion barreling towards her. A kitten darts past Yamazaki and disappears past Chizuru down the hall.

There is a moment of silence before the storm breaks.

“What the hell was that for?!” demands Okita, at the same time as Yamazaki demands, “You were talking to a  _cat_?!”

Another pause, but Yamazaki seems content to wait for answers. “Why is everyone judging me for telling the cat a bedtime story?!” exclaims Okita, rubbing the newly made scratches on his calves. “She was falling asleep, and you scared her off!”

“If you think we’re judging you for telling the cat a bedtime story, I’ve got news for you,” snaps Yamazaki, and though he looks ready to say more, he does not get a chance to finish.

“Shut up and go find her,” growls Okita. “That’s an order. From your commanding officer.” He jerks his head to indicate that he should leave, locking eyes with Yamazaki for just long enough that Chizuru thinks maybe they won’t ever look away again… but eventually Yamazaki gives an abrupt bow and departs just as quickly.

Staring after Yamazaki, Chizuru finds that she doesn’t know what she’s supposed to do with herself… but she glances up at Okita as he speaks. “Finally,” he sighs, then smiles and pats his lap. “Now, Chizuru-chan, how’d you like to take her place for awhile…?"

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Fanart by [nollatooru](https://nollatooru.tumblr.com/post/155627676411/inspired-from-okita-telling-the-cat-a-bedtime)!


	13. "That's not nice!"

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Okita's route: Okita and Kaoru enmity; OkiChi. Rated M.

It was sort of an accident, really.

“Don’t worry; I’m not going to touch you tonight,” Okita told Chizuru an hour ago, to encourage her that it was all right to lie beside him… but in his defense, she touched him first. They lay facing one another, drowsing by the fire, until she held onto his hips to close all remaining distance between them, pressing herself against him.

After that, Okita wanted more. His  _body_  wanted more. So did Chizuru, although of course her symptoms were less obvious than his. The fact that she didn’t shy away from him was the first sign that maybe he’d get to work it out instead of sleeping it off.

The second sign was when she blushed and kissed him and  _asked_  him to touch her. It was the most forward she’s ever been, but Okita just smiled and obeyed and didn’t ask why. The gods may have stacked the odds against Chizuru for her first time, but Okita and his fingers knew how to defy them.

At least they’re in the middle of a forest, so her kiss-muffled vocalizations went unnoticed by all but the creatures of the night. Or so Okita thinks.

A rustle in the bushes startles him out of his afterglow reverie, and he narrows his eyes, taking up his sword and glancing briefly down at Chizuru. Thankfully, she let Okita help her get dressed again before passing out; Okita only bothered to pull his pants back on, but that’s enough clothing for a confrontation.

“You,” growls an all-too-familiar voice, and Okita glowers into the darkness.  _Kaoru_. “Keep quiet and come with me if you value her life.” There is a glint of silver from within the folds of his cloak—a pistol, pointed at the peacefully sleeping Chizuru.

Okita’s eyes flick from Kaoru to Chizuru; they’re too far away for him to jump between them and save her, even with his fury reflexes. All he can do is acquiesce, stepping forward with sheathed sword to follow Kaoru through the trees. He’s dimly surprised that Kaoru is allowing him to carry his weapon, but there are no exceptions to his habit of accepting blessings unconditionally.

As soon as the two of them reach the nearest clearing, Kaoru whirls around, unsheathing his sword. “You lying  _traitor_!” he snaps, lunging forward even as he speaks: Okita’s body responds flawlessly, drawing his sword to block the strike as power washes over him. He knows, even without seeing himself, that he looks like the monster he has become.

“That’s not  _nice_!” roars Okita, accentuating the last word with a particularly fierce slash. Kaoru may be a demon, but he lacks skill, even as he assumes… his true form? His hair is as white as a fury’s, but he also has two small horns protruding from his forehead, and his eyes glow gold like suns in the night.

“Neither was promising not to take my sister’s virginity, then promptly doing so!” shrieked Kaoru, his strength and efforts redoubled as he initiates a series of thrusts and slices.

Okita chooses  _not_ to wonder to what extent Kaoru has been watching them, lest he have to pause their duel to throw up out of disgust. “Since when do you care whose bed your sister sleeps in?!” he hisses instead, sidestepping and riposting swiftly.

Kaoru opens his mouth to respond, his eyes flashing, but the yell Okita hears is not his. “Kaoru!” screeches Chizuru’s voice, and suddenly she’s at his side. Or… is she? It’s her voice, but she looks like…  _him_. A demon—hair disheveled, clothes in disarray—with kodachi drawn.

“This strength of feeling,” mutters Kaoru as if to himself, staring incredulously at his transformed sister, and Okita smiles as he realizes that taking her to bed may have helped her more than he knew. “How…”

“Get out of here,” commands Okita, drawing himself up as tall as he can, like the captain he used to be. (Kaoru is barely taller than Chizuru, so Okita likes to think his height is intimidating.) “There’s no need to stalk us like this. You should know we’re not backing down now.”

Kaoru’s eyes burn with hatred, but he gives a mocking bow. “ _Fine_ ,” he responds. “I’ll be sure to tell Kodo about you two, so he knows to give his son-in-law a proper greeting.” And with that, evidently too shaken even to offer a more literal parting shot, Kaoru vanishes into the trees.

Okita draws Chizuru close to him by the waist, refusing to sheathe his sword until he knows for certain that the danger has passed. Chizuru’s form shivers, her hair blackening as her horns retract. The eerie glow leaves her eyes, turning from gold to brown like autumn leaves in winter.

The two of them can’t think of anything to say at first, simply reveling in one another’s aliveness… but eventually, Okita laughs quietly as something occurs to him. “If getting inside you is what it takes to give you a demon’s strength,” he tells Chizuru, “I’ll do it as often as you like.”


	14. "I would professionally…"

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hijikata's route: Otori and Hijikata bromance; HijiChi. Rated T. Originally requested by doodlethewhiteraven.

Neither of them have so much as mentioned Chizuru in the weeks since they left for Ezo, but Otori knows he has to let Hijikata be the first, on pain of death.

…So he works up to it gradually instead, starting with questions about the men. Visit by visit, Hijikata takes to opening up, regaling him with stories of the Shieikan and the early days of the Shinsengumi—at his leisure, of course. And, though he leaves Chizuru out of it, Otori can hear the holes in his stories, and hear the hollowness in his voice.

Until one day, he mentions her. By accident, almost. Otori brings him tea, and Hijikata smiles for the first time in days. “Yukimura,” is all he says, his voice a murmur as he stares into his cup. Though Otori can’t discern all the memories in his eyes, the fact that he’s thinking about her again is enough.

After several seconds of silence, he can’t resist. “What about Yukimura-kun?” prompts Otori, careful to keep his voice light and respectful—placing as little pressure on him to answer as possible. “Your relationship is purely professional… right?” He debates asking  _if_  it is, but decides that even implying what he guesses to be the truth is dangerous.

“I would  _professionally_  fuck the shit out of her,” mutters Hijikata, his grip on his cup tightening slightly.

Otori, mid-sip of tea, pretends  _not_ to be choking. “P-pardon?” he asks instead, blinking as innocently as possible, and clears his throat. He’s not quite sure what to do with this information, or even how to process it, but he has it now.

“Nothing,” responds Hijikata shortly, slamming his teacup down, and he might even be blushing. Otori barely manages to fight off the urge to smile; so he didn’t mishear him after all. “Thank you for the tea. Now get  _out_.”


	15. "Two words: blizzard sex."

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Post-Saito's route: SaiChi. Rated E. Originally requested by moon-faced-pear-shaped.

“Hajime-san,” says Chizuru, peering out the window, and looks back at him with anxiety shimmering in her eyes. “If this storm keeps up, it looks like we’re going to be snowed in.”

Saito glances up briefly from his work. Is that really all that’s worrying her? “I thought this might happen,” he replies. “I took inventory yesterday, while you were out. Counting the groceries you brought home, we have enough supplies to last us several days.”

Chizuru nods. “I-it’s just the first time this has happened before,” she manages nervously. “Even in Kyoto, there was never a storm bad enough to keep us all inside, and the compound was always big enough that we could still walk around.” She stares around pointedly at their four walls, then back at him. “Here, I don’t know what we’ll  _do_.”

Saito gives her a reassuring smile. “Don’t worry about that,” he tells her. “I have plenty of tasks to keep me occupied, and I’m sure you can still find time for  some of your chores.”

“I meant besides work,” protests Chizuru, and Saito quirks an eyebrow. Ordinarily, there  _is_ no ‘besides’ for her; she has a serious problem with overworking herself, which she never hesitates to point out in him. “How will we entertain ourselves…?”

There’s a coy note in her voice that tells Saito she’s looking for a particular answer, so he gives it to her. “One phrase,” he announces, smiling despite himself, and blushes to his ears. “Blizzard sex.”

First it’s for warmth, then for comfort, and finally just to see how long they last—but no matter the reason, Saito and Chizuru find themselves lost in one another more times, and in more ways, than either of them care to count. (Saito tries to keep track anyway, but abandons the attempt after seven.)

They can’t do much laundry, so the bed is reserved for their nights. That’s enough to convince Saito they shouldn’t take advantage of it too often… until Chizuru emerges from her last bath still naked. Saito refuses to look and tries to focus once more on his work, but she kneels behind him and massages his shoulders and begs him so sweetly to take her that—

She still has a few ink stains on her chest, obtained as Saito took her by the shoulders and turned her around and pushed her onto his desk. His forcefulness surprised them both, but they arrived at the unanimous and very subconscious decision not to correct their course. Saito has since gained a newfound appreciation for Chizuru’s perfect back.

…And, in a way, his own. Saito’s spine hurts from lying on the floor in an effort to spare his wife the soreness that comes with submission—perhaps as penance for all he put her through earlier in the day. But any attempt to prioritize Chizuru’s comfort is rendered useless when she backs against the wall and pulls him forward, against her, and slides his hands to her thighs, and asks him to lift her, to—

Even that is still not as strange or as wonderful as when Saito trails kisses down her body until he wonders what she tastes like. He soon discovers that she is as intoxicating as sake, even if his tongue is sore… and, despite her repeated offers, requires no reciprocation to derive his own pleasure from her bliss.

(Although she offers it anyway, while he’s trying desperately to focus on all the work that’s been piling up due to naps and lovemaking.)

At least the howling of the winds means that the neighbors won’t hear her mewling, music to his ears, or her high halting ‘ _Hajime_ ’—and sometimes, if he saturates her senses enough that she can’t remember in time, ‘ _S-Saito—sorry!_ ’—and his lower, more guttural ‘ _Chizuru_ ’.

It takes three whole days for the storm to move through… and by the time the winds still again, hardly any work has been accomplished. If snow wasn’t Saito’s favorite weather before, it certainly is now. And even considering the days before his fury symptoms ebbed away, he’s never been so displeased to see the sun.


	16. "You know that's bullshit!"

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Pre-game: Nagakura and Heisuke humor. Rated T.

“Shinpatsu-san,” greets Heisuke, leaning against the side of the gate, and even though he wasn’t trying to be sneaky in the slightest, Nagakura is preoccupied enough that he jumps anyway. “You’re back late.”

“I’m back  _early_ ,” corrects Nagakura, lifting his hand to shield his eyes from the almost-sunrise as if the sky is already too bright for him. He’s going to have a hell of a hangover, thinks Heisuke, and smiles. “What are you doing up?”

“Getting ready for training,” grins Heisuke, eyeing Nagakura’s disheveled clothes and the bruises on his neck. He’s never happy to be up this early, but it looks like Nagakura’s had the rougher night between them. “You look like you’ve been  _training_ , too. Did you get in another fight?”

Nagakura stares at him for a second, then chuckles. “You have the mind of an innocent, non-tainted child,” he tells him dismissively.

“You know that’s bullshit because you’re the  _reason_ that’s bullshit!” flares up Heisuke, clenching his fists. He should know better than to make claims like that after all the time they spent drinking together in the Shieikan. “Come on, I know what goes on in the red-light districts. I’m a bastard, for fuck’s sake.”

“Ooh, look at you, busting out the big words,” teases Nagakura, stretching, and takes a few more steps forward. “All right, fine. You’re less of a kid than you look. Now let me through.”

Heisuke shakes his head, brandishing his bokuto, and Nagakura stops short. “I asked if you got in a fight because I was  _hoping_ you were keeping yourself sharp,” says Heisuke. “Hijikata-san’s testing us today. Did you forget?”

Nagakura’s confused frown gives way to dawning horror, and his expression is priceless enough to make Heisuke relent. Laughing aloud, Heisuke retracts and shoulders his bokuto. “You better get yourself cleaned up,” he says, jerking his head toward the well in the courtyard. “Practice starts in a quarter of an hour.”

Nagakura opens his mouth as if to protest… then seems to remember that Heisuke isn’t really the one calling the shots here, and heaves a defeated sigh. “I  _wish_ you had the mind of an innocent, non-tainted child,” mutters Nagakura, correcting himself, and storms past.


	17. "I'm just so full of love and alcohol."

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Heisuke's route: mild HeiChi. Rated T. Originally requested by rave-happy-forever.

Harada takes another sip of sake, smiling faintly at the scene unfolding before him. Bringing Chizuru along definitely brightens up a dull evening, although it’s more work than he anticipates to fend off Nagakura long enough to let Heisuke have a chance.

…Of course, Chizuru still can’t afford to wear proper feminine attire, but that’s probably for the best. Heisuke might actually die (or perhaps kill) if she could. As it is, pouring their drinks is more than enough to enchant all who know her true gender, and it also prevents an excess of jealousy. Win-win.

“Chi-zu-ru,” calls Heisuke, holding out his cup… but she hesitates, and glances over at Harada as if for assistance. After all, it’s not Chizuru’s job to keep track of all their limits, and Heisuke seems to have exceeded his—perhaps too transfixed by her motions to stop asking for more. His eyes are glazed, his face flushed as much with infatuation as tipsiness.

Harada sighs, but the smile does not leave his face. “Heisuke,” he says, raising his voice slightly. “You might want to slow down a little.”

“Nah, I’m fine—better than fine!” laughs Heisuke, throwing an arm around Chizuru, and she squeaks as she is pulled into an unexpected half-embrace. Still, as Harada quickly examines her expression for any discomfort or fear, he only finds her flustered… and almost  _excited_. “And Chizuru’s fine, too,” he adds, leaning in closer than he’d ever dare sober. “Right, Chizuru?”

“Y-yeah,” responds Chizuru uncertainly, somehow managing to set the sake jug down far enough away to avoid spilling its contents. “I’m o—kay?!” Her assertion becomes an exclamation as Heisuke pushes her back, too excited to be gentle; arranges her just so… and faceplants into her lap.

(The other men, fortunately, do not notice the disappearance of their captain’s head into the lap of an allegedly  _male_ page.)

“I’m just so full of love and alcohol,” mumbles Heisuke, hugging Chizuru around the waist and burying his face deeper in her lap. At least, that’s what Harada thinks he says; his voice is more than a little muffled, so he can’t say for sure.

“H-Heisuke-kun…!” stammers Chizuru, turning visibly more scarlet, but Heisuke’s response is either wordless or unintelligible, and his body is already starting to relax. He’s done for the night, and Harada got the feeling Heisuke didn’t know that himself until he semi-accidentally ended up horizontal.

Harada laughs. “Sorry, Chizuru-chan,” he says, shifting in place in the beginnings of an effort to get up and move him—but, to his surprise, Chizuru glances up and shakes her head, although she’s still blushing.

“Y-you can leave him be,” she murmurs, perhaps unconsciously tucking a stray lock of hair behind Heisuke’s ear. “It’s no trouble, and I know he needs his rest.”


	18. Good Girl

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hijikata's route: Otori and Hijikata bromance. Implied HijiChi. Rated T.

“Otori,” said Hijikata. “You wouldn’t happen to know anything about where Yukimura got that outfit, would you?”

Otori glanced up from his cup of tea, graciously delivered by the girl herself—shortly before she left out of respect for their private conversation, of course. Chizuru was  _such_  a good girl, both benevolent and beneficial: Hijikata wasn’t half as irritable and melancholy with her around, even if he refused to admit it.

“Do you like it?” he asked, taking another sip. “I had her western clothes made for her myself.” He avoided mentioning her months’ absence from Ezo, so as not to remind Hijikata that he had been the one to order her to stay behind. If Chizuru had already resolved that it was all in the past, the least Otori could do was honor it.

But Hijikata did not look particularly pleased. “It’s a little… tight,” he growled, draining his cup sullenly and reaching to pour himself another. “ _Much_  more obvious she’s female, dressed like that.”

Otori smiled, but did not dare voice the idea that perhaps her true gender was no more or less evident than ever, and Hijikata had just started focusing on certain features. “Really,” he remarked instead. “It’s true that Yukimura-kun has grown more beautiful in the time you were apart, but hasn’t she  _always_  been pretty?”

“How long have you been looking?” demanded Hijikata… but his voice quieted even as he spoke, and he colored slightly, as though he had just realized what he was saying. “Never mind,” he added immediately, not meeting Otori’s eyes. “I… didn’t sleep well last night.”

The comment might seem irrelevant, but Otori knows it’s his way of making excuses for having said more than he meant to. “You haven’t slept well for as long as I’ve known you,” he replied. “I hope, now that Yukimura-kun has returned, that might change.”

Hijikata scowled at him, but Otori had long since stopped fearing that expression, even from the Demon. Aggression was his default defense, after all. “What’s  _that_  supposed to mean?” he shot back, but didn’t seem interested in waiting for a response. “If that’s all you have to talk about, you can leave now.”

“If you like,” responded Otori, having expected nothing less. They didn’t have anything to discuss that wouldn’t also be brought up in the meeting that evening, anyway.

As soon as he opened the door, however, he came face-to-face with a very startled and very mortified Chizuru. Had she been eavesdropping? “Yukimura-kun,” greeted Otori, beaming at her obvious blush, and dipped his head politely. “I just ate, but Hijikata-san would like some snacks to go with his tea. You can do that, can’t you?”

Otori glanced backward to find Hijikata rigid in his seat (clearly reliving the conversation they’d just had in an attempt to find out whether he’d said anything incriminating), but heard no objections. Satisfied, Otori returned his gaze to Chizuru to find her looking grateful to have a reason for loitering.

“Y-yes, sir!” she exclaimed, bowing and racing off down the hallway with all the reckless abandon of a six-year-old. Tossing a knowing glance back at Hijikata, Otori closed the door behind him and smiled after Chizuru before pacing down the corridor to his room.

Benevolent, yes. Beneficial, even more so. But a  _good girl_ , listening in like that? Maybe less than he thought. And maybe that was just what Hijikata needed.


	19. Dawn

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Unspecified route: KazaSen. Rated M. Originally requested by sabinasanfanfic. Warning for dubious consent.

They lay together, catching their breath, too hot for covers and too exhausted to move. Their limbs were still tangled, their hair disheveled, a few red scarless smudges on their skin where fingernails pierced too keenly or horns scratched or kisses melted into bites.

“I’m still not sorry,” growled Kazama, the first to speak in hours. Apart from subconscious and barely remembered vocalizations brought on by furious pleasure, the two of them haven’t talked for days.

It had started with jealousy, of course, as usual. Chizuru already had a child and a loving husband; Kazama craved the former, and Sen the latter, but neither had yet been able to fulfill one another’s desires.

Visiting Chizuru’s apparently perfect family had pushed the two of them over the edge. They’d taken to blaming one another, more and more harshly, over the past week. They’d distanced themselves, slept apart for the first time in months—as though that would make matters any better.

…Until Kazama paid Sen a visit half-drunk, several hours ago now.

He never forced her. She never resisted. He just staggered in, pinned her down, and pressed his clumsy mouth to hers. On his tongue, Sen tasted a bitter suggestion, too sharp to be apologetic yet too inquisitive to be coercive. She could have shoved him away, but running never solved her problems before, and it wouldn’t have solved Kazama either.

Still, it wasn’t long before their resentment had gotten the better of them. Torn clothes, heat and friction, hissed insults—the air between them had seemed to shudder with the tension.

And every time it had ended, they’d each awakened the other once for more. First, it was Sen’s insistent kisses on his slack lips, and his dazed reciprocation; then, it was Kazama, already atop her again as she came to. But now, the sun was almost up, and they both knew better than to think they could stay awake any longer without serious repercussions.

Sen glanced over at Kazama, glazed-eyed, almost feverish. Something hadn’t felt right for some time. Different, deep inside her: a physical shift, and a certainty like dread, or excitement. “Chikage,” began Sen eventually. “I’m not sorry, either, but… I—I no longer have a reason to be sorry.”

Of course, she’d  _never_ thought she had a reason to be sorry, since—while she did refuse several of Kazama’s demands, spoken or otherwise, that she share his bed—she certainly acquiesced often enough that his accusations of her attempts to sabotage him were baseless. Still, she couldn’t bring herself to speak any more plainly about her hunch.

Kazama scowled at her, though it was clear he knew exactly what she meant. “You have no way of knowing that,” he told her, although his eyes searched her face intently enough that Sen knew he was considering the possibility.

Sen gave her husband a weary half-smile. “We’ll see how I feel in a week or two,” she told Kazama, as bravely as she could. For once, she was grateful that he had exhausted her so completely, rendering her unable even to think too clearly. There would be time enough to make plans, and to be anxious, later.

“You’re… serious, aren’t you?” asked Kazama, and perhaps it was Sen’s imagination, but his grip on her seemed to tighten protectively. “You really think you’re with child?”

“ _Later_ , Chikage,” hushed Sen, resting her stiff and clumsy fingers on Kazama’s lips. “I just thought I’d tell you that you may have gotten your wish. And if you get what  _you_  want,” she murmured, snuggling closer still to her husband, “I expect you to start treating me like you love me, even if you don’t. That’s all.”

As if her words had caused the day to break, the rosy light of dawn filtered into the room: a new day, bringing with it a new life… and a new promise. “I don’t not love you, Sen,” whispered Kazama, stroking her hair, all traces of frustration washed away in gentle sunlight. “I just don’t know how to prove it.”


	20. "The quiet that you are hearing…"

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Saito's route: Saito and Kazama enmity. Rated T.

Saito stops short, narrowing his eyes, as he arrives back at the inn. If that’s who he thinks it is…

“I wondered whether you’d come back early,” says Kazama, leaning against the wall and examining his fingernails idly, and glances up at Saito. “I’m glad you didn’t disappoint me. I was looking forward to having an audience.”

More than anything, Saito wants to ask what Kazama is doing there, but he realizes he already knows. Kazama clearly intends to abduct Chizuru, just like he always is, and that’s reason enough for hostility. However, as if to dissuade him from open combat, another figure emerges from the shadows in a subtle threat or warning: Amagiri.

Saito takes a moment to weigh his options carefully, but Kazama doesn’t give him the chance to think for long. “What’s wrong?” he asks, tilting his head, and his crimson eyes widen slightly. In surprise? In anger? The lamplight gives away little of Kazama’s expression, and even if Saito could see Amagiri’s face, he had no doubt his countenance would be just as inscrutable. “Cat got your tongue?”

Perhaps out of some perverse and unprecedented desire to frustrate his nemesis, Saito chooses not to indulge Kazama with speech. He knows better than to think that he can take two demons on his own, but Amagiri does not seem especially inclined to assist his companion in battle against a single adversary; he is a man of honor.

Reaching a decision, Saito takes a deep breath and paces slowly toward Kazama. Their swords can do the talking; he’s heard enough chatter in Yoshiwara. “I’m about to reclaim my wife, and you’re just going to keep quiet and let me do it?” laughs Kazama. “And here I was expecting a struggle, or at least a lecture. You’re even more spineless than I thought.”

Still Saito says nothing, waiting and watching for an opportunity to strike. His other companions shouldn’t be long behind him, so even if their altercation is interrupted, it will likely be in his favor. He has more than enough faith in his abilities to trust in his survival for that long.

“If you’re determined to be boring, so be it,” sighs Kazama, stepping forward, and stretches luxuriously. “At least you have  _some_  kind of dedication. Too bad it’ll be so short-lived.”

Saito glares at Kazama coldly. “The quiet that you are hearing is a silent suggestion that you should go fuck yourself,” he says softly, resting his hand on  his sword.

Kazama’s eyes flash with fury in the darkness—but before he can bare his blade, a strident voice emanates from some distance away. “Hey, hey, these assholes again?” calls Nagakura.

“You’re not going to take all the glory for yourself, are you?” demands Heisuke, grinning, and his eyes fix themselves on Amagiri, hungry for revenge.

“Leave some for us,” adds Harada, brandishing his spear. “In fact, leave  _all_ of it to us,” he continues, jerking his head to indicate the gate to the inn. “Go make sure Chizuru is safe. We’ll take care of this.”

Saito nods reluctantly, but Amagiri rests a cautionary hand on his companion’s forearm before he can move. “Kazama,” murmurs Amagiri urgently. “We should withdraw. This is already more complicated than necessary.”

Kazama continues glaring at Saito for another few silent and motionless seconds, then closes his eyes with a grimace and wrenches his gaze away. “Fine,” snarls Kazama, loosening his grip on the hilt of his sword. “But I’ll be back. And I  _won’t_  forget the insult you paid me!”

Without further ado, he turns and stalks into the darkness; Amagiri pauses only to bow politely before following suit. Heisuke, meanwhile, steps forward somewhat unsteadily to stand next to Saito. “What did you tell him?” he asks incredulously, his voice hushed.

Saito gives him a wan smile. “I didn’t say anything,” he says, mostly truthfully. “And then I told him exactly what that meant.”


	21. "It was an honor."

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Unspecified route: AmaGiku. Rated M. Originally requested by doodlethewhiteraven.

Sen is beginning to get restless. Kimigiku told her they’d talk after her meeting with Amagiri, but it seems to be running a little longer than anticipated. Ordinarily, Kimigiku keeps her promises to the second; what’s keeping her this time?

Sen knows the dangers of walking into a geisha’s private room without announcing herself, but her curiosity and impatience soon gets the better of her. It’ll only take a moment to check in on them, and she’s sure they’re only talking, anyway. Amagiri, at least, is too traditional to do more, even in the Sumi.

Creeping into the hallway, Sen opens the door a crack to peer inside. (Strange, she thinks, that there is no apprentice guarding them.)

…Thankfully, Amagiri’s back is turned, and he appears to be fully clothed, at least from behind. However, the realization that Kimigiku is in her slip and on her knees before him is more than enough to convince Sen to shut the door again as soon as she can convince her limbs to move, praying she did not call attention to herself.

Only after she does so does Sen realize how weak and shaky she feels, but she doesn’t have time to dwell on it. She just makes her way silently back into her own room and tries to think as little as possible in an attempt to calm her rapidly pounding heart. Sometimes, Sen forgets that Kimigiku’s job entails such acts… to say nothing of the discovery that Amagiri’s impeccable sense of propriety is evidently  _not_ all-encompassing.

…Several minutes later, the door slides open, and Sen—lost in thought despite herself—jumps. “O-Okiku?” she asks, turning to find her confidante standing before her as anticipated. Fully clothed again, or close to it, quite as though nothing had happened… but of course, Sen knows better.

Kimigiku takes one look at Sen’s expression and closes her eyes, turning her face slightly away as a burning blush rises to her cheeks. “You really must learn to control your curiosity, my lady,” she remarks, although her tone is still respectful as ever. “Did I not say that  _I_ would come to  _you_?”

Sen lets out a long breath. “Yes,” she mumbles. “I’m so sorry. I just… didn’t know you were…” Spoken aloud, every excuse seems even less acceptable; Sen falters, then makes an effort to look at Kimigiku’s face. “But were you  _really_ …?” she begins, half disbelieving, but cannot finish the sentence.

Kimigiku clears her throat, then nods almost imperceptibly. “I wish everyone could do so,” she sighs dreamily, half to herself. “It was an honor.”

Sen still doesn’t particularly understand the appeal, and coughs faintly as she forces the imagined sensation out of her mind. “Why would anyone…  _do_  such a thing?” she asks, careful not to sound too judgmental lest she inadvertently cause offense.

It’s likely that Kimigiku will tell her, as she usually does, that  _someday she’ll know_. (Sen is never convinced of that, but invariably chooses not to say as much.) This time, however, the answer is different, as Kimigiku smiles secretively.

“Because Amagiri-han did the same for me,” she murmurs, fidgeting with her kimono, “before I even offered.”


	22. "You can get this dick for free!"

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Unspecified route: HaraShira. Rated M.

Shiranui glances up from his sake, grinning, at the sound of a familiar voice. Of all the things to lighten up a dull evening! It must be his lucky day. “It’s my birthday, damn it,” says Harada’s voice, making its way down the hall toward him. “I’m getting  _something_ for free, even if it’s just a drink at the bar.”

“You can get this dick for free!” exclaims Shiranui, more to call attention to himself than because he means it (although he definitely wouldn’t say no). It works: Harada stops short by the doorway so abruptly that his companion—oh, what’s his name, Nagakura—crashes into him from behind.

“Shiranui?” remarks Harada, blinking at him in astonishment an instant before his expression hardens into a glower. “Thanks, but no thanks. Didn’t I already  _tell_  you I’m not in the habit of taking invitations from men?”

“Never too late to learn,” laughs Shiranui, raising his empty cup in an equally empty toast. “I’m way too sober and people are way too heterosexual, so find me someone up for sake and sex and I  _won’t_  blow your brains out for turning me down. Sound good?”

He’s joking, of course, but Harada opens his mouth as if to argue. Still, Nagakura snorts before he can respond. “Buy your own sake and go fuck yourself,” he says. “That’s about as close as you can get, right?”

“Aren’t you one to talk,” responds Shiranui, not in the slightest insulted, and gets up to take the first half of Nagakura’s advice.

The hours pass with plenty of sake, but unfortunately no sex.

Shiranui doesn’t speak to Harada again, but he runs into Nagakura and the runt—everyone calls him Heisuke, right?—more than he likes. They order more sake than they can handle, and Shiranui has to deal with them getting in his face about his comment to Harada whenever they want another round.

“You in love with Sano-san or somethin’?” slurs Heisuke, cracking his knuckles as if threatening Shiranui. (How adorable.) “I heard about what you said to him today. Seems to me that’s the only expon… explet…  _ex-pla-na-tion_.”

Shiranui shrugs, his eyes flicking to Nagakura as he saunter-stumbles up. “I think about him when I jerk it, so I  _guess_  you could call it love,” he tells Heisuke, relishing the expression on their faces. “But mostly, I’d just like to fuck him. Although,” he adds thoughtfully, “I wouldn’t say no to  _being_ fucked, either, if he’s strong enough to tame a demon.”

Nagakura and Heisuke stare at him, openmouthed and wide-eyed, and Shiranui laughs. Oh, their expressions are  _priceless_. “No wonder you can’t catch any tail,” he chortles. “Limit yourselves to half the population, and of  _course_  you’re not gonna get laid as often as me.”

…They seem to be too stunned to catch the insult, no matter how overt it is. (That, or their sake tolerances are just  _laughably_  low.) “ _Sano_!” bellows Nagakura, staggering off and dragging the still-shellshocked Heisuke after him. “We’re leaving!”

Shiranui grins after them, downing the last of his sake and making his way back to his room. Time to consider taking Nagakura up on the  _other_ half of his suggestion.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A "medley" of references to [this photoset](https://shenanigumi.tumblr.com/post/153145376301/experimentation-vol-1-i-may-as-well-just-admit).


	23. "Don't let me forget!"

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Pre-game: Okita humor. Rated T.

If there’s one thing Okita hates, it’s blacking out.

Granted, it’s the first time he ever  _has_ blacked out, and that’s only because it’s the first time he’s had more than a few sips. And  _that’s_ because yesterday was the day Kondou decided it was about time he came of age. Hijikata, of course, ruined the occasion—as he ruins all good things—by insisting he find his limit.

“Better to do it sooner than later,” his voice still echoes in Okita’s head, amid the throbbing headache. “And better around the people you trust. You’ll thank me for it later.”

Okita heaves a sigh (and almost more than that), throwing his arm over his eyes. Unable to remember or even really  _think_ , he opts to focus instead on observations. First, and most obviously, the day is… too bright. He doesn’t seem to be lying on his futon, either. He’s lying on something soft, to be sure, but it appears to be… breathing…?

“Good morning, Souji,” mumbles Saito from underneath him, sleepy but sober. He didn’t drink half as much as anyone else; Okita has no idea why he’s there, but it’s entirely probable that he collapsed on top of Saito, and Saito let him lie.

“Is it?” groans Okita, swallowing convulsively as his throat burns with speech. “I can’t remember a damn thing.” Not with this headache, and not with this vague queasiness.

“That’s too bad,” remarks Harada. His tolerance has always been insanely high; Okita is dimly unsurprised that he’s already awake, but is marginally more dubious that Nagakura and Heisuke are also conscious. “I was looking forward to hearing the cat story.”

“C-cats?” asked Okita, trying and failing to push himself up. Gods, he feels like shit—weak and shaky and half-sick, and he doesn’t even have the good memories to show for it. He’s never,  _ever_ , drinking that much again. And when he’s strong enough to curl his fingers into a fist, he’ll punch Hijikata harder than the sake hit  _him_.

Heisuke nodded, a grin still plastered on his face. Is… is he still  _drunk_? Maybe the reason he and Nagakura are still awake is because they never went to sleep, realizes Okita.

“You staggered out of that side room and said ‘I have an important idea to tell you when I’m sober about a cat scratching my nose once and what it taught me’,” snickers Heisuke, exchanging glances with Nagakura and Harada, and the three of them chorus, “‘ _Don’t let me forget_!’”

Okita squints at them. Something about that rings a bell, but not enough of one for him to figure out what. Only as he rubs the sting on his nose does he recall the geisha’s sharp-nailed caress gone awry, and then he realizes why Nagakura is grinning at him like that. He’d paid for that encounter, hadn’t he…?

But Okita, still half-drunk and in the haze of hangover, can’t help but laugh as he rolls off Saito—even though it almost turns into a cough, and then a retch. “You’re laughing,” remarks Saito faintly, stirring, but doesn’t ask why or even sit up. (Maybe he drank more than Okita thought.)

That’s all for the best; Okita isn’t sure anyone else would understand, even if he  _did_ try to tell them. Some memories, blurry and bright, come floating back; his fingers twitch as though grasping at them physically. It was an enjoyable evening, to be sure, and if the others want to pay his way in the pleasure houses again, he’ll take it… but he’s not about to spend his own money there.

If the memory of a stray cat scratching his nose when he was thirteen years old is the first and most prominent thing he took away from the loss of his virginity, then spending his own coin on geisha simply isn’t worth it. But even if Saito were to agree, the three idiots would undoubtedly give him hell.

“Sorry,” sighs Okita instead, giving an aborted half-shrug, and closes his eyes again. “I don’t remember.”


	24. Worth It

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Nagakura's route: NagaChi. Rated E.

There’s no way she can look at him. In fact, she’s closed her eyes by now, although she doesn’t remember doing so. Amid the rhythm of her breathing, shorter and heavier by the second, she finds herself wondering dimly why she was  _ever_  so nervous.

Perhaps an hour ago at most, Chizuru hugged her arms to herself uncomfortably, half-covering her breasts. “Sh-Shinpachi,” she managed, squirming slightly; it was unusual for her to be the first of them naked, but at least he took his shirt off to make her feel better about it. “Wh-why would you want…?”

“Practice,” responded Nagakura, raising his eyebrows. “Also, because I’m your goddamn husband and I have the right to prioritize you, y’know. C’mon, sit down,” he added. My face has been acquainted with plenty of much uglier things than  _that_.”

“I… um,” began Chizuru, kneeling over him obligingly as her blush burned hotter still. “W-will you… be able to breathe?”

“Even if I can’t, I’ll at least die happy,” Nagakura assured her, raising his fingers affectionately to prepare her: Chizuru lets out a long, slow breath, staring at a fixed point on his chest to calm herself at the prospects of a new position. “Nah, I’ll be fine. I’ve done this be… fore…”

Nagakura trailed off, glancing aside, and cursed under his breath as his fingers slowed and stopped. Chizuru only smiled faintly and grasped his wrist to encourage him to continue, shifting forward to make it easier for him. He always kept as quiet as possible about his past encounters, but Chizuru would be a fool indeed to believe she was his first.

Besides, in the end, all his experience benefited her… right?

…So it seems. How long has it been? Time has melted away, measured only in pulses of pleasure brought on by a powerful tongue, as Chizuru has grown more sensitive and more comfortable under his touch. Nagakura’s strong hands support her by the waist, fingers massaging her lower back—the pads of his fingers alternating with the edges of short but sharper nails.

If he keeps up like this, Chizuru realizes abruptly (eyes flying wide to stare at the ceiling), Nagakura will finish her altogether, and forsake his own pleasure entirely. Was that his intention from the beginning…? He can’t just do that!

“Th-that’s enough…!” Chizuru tries to say, but a gasp almost like a swallow cuts her off, and she goes rigid, arching her back instinctively. She’s closer than she thought. Nagakura grips her more tightly and pulls her down, flicks his tongue experimentally in just the right place, sends her tumbling over the precipice like a waterfall.

“Sh-Shinpa—chi!” cries Chizuru, as much in astonishment as euphoria, and then it’s over. As soon as she can move again, she slides back, embarrassed; Nagakura sits up underneath her to cradle her in his lap. His embrace is too warm in the heat of completion, but his physical support is comforting in her momentary weakness.

“That’s a lot more work than I remember,” mumbles Nagakura, slurring his words and wiping his mouth, and grins at her proudly just before he rests his chin on her head. “Totally worth it, though.”

“If you say so,” sighs Chizuru, sliding her palm up to her husband’s chest, and wonders how his eyes can possibly be so bright—how he can have seen fit to make a sacrifice like that. Nagakura’s mouth must be so sore by now; she can’t imagine how much his tongue must ache…

Even as the thought crosses Chizuru’s mind, something occurs to her, and she braves a smile up at him, pushing him back slightly to look into his face. (It’s nice to see it again, she thinks.) “Shinpachi,” she says, looking Nagakura in the eye with extreme difficulty. “Do you w-want me to… do the same for you…?”


	25. Awake

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Heisuke's route: bittersweet HeiChi. Rated T.

For all his everyday enthusiasm, Heisukeisn’t really a morning person.

It’s not just the one time that Chizuru is assigned the task of rousing him, as she discovers. Whenever Heisuke oversleeps, she always seems to be the one they send to wake him. She’d think it’s just because she’s the only one who happened to be handy, if she didn’t overhear Hijikata asking Yamazaki to find her one time. (Why not just send Yamazaki…? It’d be quicker, and easier.)

Still, Chizuru doesn’t mind. She likes how  _human_  Heisuke looks in those early-morning moments, vulnerable just like her, not intimidating or threatening like some of the other men. She likes his hoarse and quiet mumble, his disheveled kimono, the way he curls around his blanket instead of lying beneath it. She likes the way the golden light of dawn accentuates the gold in his hair, and—once he finally opens those sleepy eyes—glitters in his sea-green irises. 

Gradually, she gains the courage to approach him, even touch him, instead of lingering in the doorway and calling out. “Heisuke-kun,” she murmurs, gazing down at his peaceful face. “Time to get up.”

Sometimes it takes a moment, either because he doesn’t hear her or because he doesn’t want to… but even in his worst moods, the ones when he groans and grumbles and insists that Hijikata can do whatever he likes, but he’s  _not_ going to get up, Chizuru always catches him hiding a smile.

Of course, that’s different from the times Chizuru has to wake him when he’s drunk. That’s a little less pleasant and usually takes a lot longer, but she’ll tiptoe bravely through the room of sleeping drunkards until she reaches his side, prodding him gently… and then not so gently… until he awakens.

(If she has nothing better to do, she’ll stay and nurse his hangovers.)

Chizuru misses Heisuke when he leaves the Shinsengumi. She misses those few moments of peace—unacknowledged through the rest of the day, yet somehow subtly integral to her happiness. Then she wonders whether he misses them too, second-guessing herself until her mind races so quickly she has to think about something else.

…And why does her heart ache like this? Deep down, Chizuru knows, but can’t seem to think the thought that might bring it all crashing down.

It gets worse, in a way, after he comes back. He doesn’t sleep at night anymore, and no one asks Chizuru to wake him. Still, in times as turbulent as these, she doesn’t like to let go of familiar rituals… so as soon as the sun dips below the horizon and the colors fade from the sky, she lights the lamps in Heisuke’s room and wakes him for the night patrol.

Until one evening, she finds him trembling and feverish, his hair white as the snow outside: the mark of a fury. “Heisuke-kun!” she cries, rushing forward to kneel next to him and shake him awake, rough in her desperation. “Heisuke-kun, are you all right?”

He stops breathing, and his eyes snap open at the sound of her voice. Red, but they flicker back to turquoise even as she looks at him. How long has Heisuke lain like this, trapped somewhere between sleep and wakefulness, alone…?

“I…” he begins, but it comes out like a sob, and he shakes his head wildly. “Chizuru,” he whispers, reaching toward her face—but drops his hand before he can touch her. She wants to seize Heisuke’s palm, to bring his fingers to her skin, but cannot move. “Stay with me?”

His voice is a whisper, almost a plea, and Chizuru gives no thought to propriety. She only nods, eyes filling with tears. “You’re here,” she whispers, scooting closer to him. “Alive, with me. Rest now.”

Heisuke offers a weary and watery smile, and his eyes slide shut again, his body relaxing as his breathing gradually evens out. His face is still damp with sweat and tears, a faint crease in his brow from frowning… but as Chizuru slides her hand into his and squeezes reassuringly, the corner of his mouth tugs up in a subconscious smile.

 _Everything will be okay_ , thinks Chizuru, and closes her eyes, imagining herself standing between Heisuke and his nightmares with kodachi drawn. She’ll always be here to fend off the bad thoughts. Here to wake him whenever the time comes to call him back to her.

Always.


	26. "I'm sorry in advance."

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Unspecified route: suggestive HaraShira. Rated M. A direct sequel to Chapter 22.

Shiranui is still considering taking the other half of Nagakura’s advice when Harada opens the door without so much as knocking. (Thank goodness Shiranui hadn’t started the process of turning himself on yet.)

Giving him a quick glance up and down to assess the situation, Shiranui finds that Harada is steadier on his feet than his companions, certainly, but still clearly drunk. “What are you  _doing_ here, anyway?” he asks, beating Shiranui to the punch, and leans against the doorframe.

Shrugging, Shiranui sits up a little straighter. Either this really  _is_ his lucky day, or it’s going to be a slap in the face. “I was drinking, till your friends and I scared each other off,” he says. “And speaking of which, I thought that one loudmouth said you were leaving.”

Harada frowns. “You… scared  _each other_?”

“Maybe I scared them a  _little_  more,” muses Shiranui, tossing Harada a sly smile. “Your friends will be treating to you to many anecdotes about my intentions to have aggressive sex with you.”

Shiranui almost bursts out laughing as Harada stares at him. Is it really that much of a surprise? He hasn’t exactly been subtle, after all. “So, how about it?” asks Shiranui, shifting in place. “In order to save time, dignity, and further liver damage, wanna get naked?”

“ _What_ ,” begins Harada, and though he looks more than a little repulsed, at least he’s not racing out the door. Curiosity is a good first step, even if it’s born only of horrified fascination.

“If you need to be a little more drunk to realize you’re not straight, so be it,” says Shiranui, raising his eyebrows. “I’ll buy the house out of sake if you like. Just let me suck your dick and be happy,” he continues, and though he’s not the type to blush, he can feel the heat rise to his cheeks at the thought. (It’s been awhile.) “Let me have this.”

“What is  _wrong_ with you?” explodes Harada. “We’ve tried to kill each other a couple times, and now you think it’s okay to ask me something like  _that_? No. Fuck you.” He pauses, glancing aside. “You’ll probably just bite me,” he mutters.

Shiranui shudders at the thought. “I have a penis, too,” he points out, wincing. “ _Nobody_  deserves that. Except maybe Kazama,” he adds thoughtfully, “but I don’t think he’d be able to get anyone far enough down that road to suffer like that.”

Harada slowly turns his head to look back at Shiranui. “You’re serious, aren’t you?” he asks, his tone and countenance both somewhere between guarded and incredulous. “About doing this. But why…?”

“Hey, if you’re that opposed to it, I’ll back off,” says Shiranui, holding up his hands in a gesture of surrender, and Harada opens one eye to evaluate his expression. “I just think it’d be a waste to kill you before I even get to fuck you, that’s all. You’re pretty attractive for a human.”

Harada narrows his eyes. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

Shiranui grins. “It means demons are hotter,” he says, laying out the bait and praying to all the gods he doesn’t believe in that Harada takes it. “I’m living proof,” he adds, gesturing to himself.

“Yeah, right,” snorts Harada, but there’s a hint of a smile on his face now. A genuine one, too—cocky and confident, to be sure, but that’s part of what Shiranui likes about him.

“You want to find out how wrong you are, get in here,” says Shiranui, sitting back on his hands, and raises his eyebrows. “I’m fucking gorgeous, so if you don’t want me, I’ll do me myself. No pressure.”

 _All_ the pressure. Harada can’t back down from a challenge this clear, and both of them know it. “ _Fine_ ,” he growls, walking the rest of the way in and snapping the door shut behind him before leaning lightly against it. “Let’s get this over with, then. What do I do?”

“The same thing you’d do if you were about to get head from the most beautiful geisha you can think of,” responds Shiranui promptly, moistening his lips. “The only difference between my mouth and a woman’s mouth is in your head. Your  _body_  doesn’t know the difference… or care.”

“I meant  _afterwards_ , genius,” says Harada, crossing his arms. “You do something for me, I have to do something for you. I don’t care what sex you are; that’s how honor works.”

“Oh,” says Shiranui, taken aback for a split second, but smiles again. This is going better than he’s ever imagined, and he’s explored this in his mind more times than he cares to count. “Well, we’ll just have to burn that bridge when we come to it, won’t we?”

“We’ll have to  _cross_ that bridge,” corrects Harada, and paces forward, undoing his obi as he walks. Shiranui grins in anticipatory excitement, cracking his knuckles as if preparing for a fight: time to convert another one.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Includes some references from the same set as last time, as well as [this one](https://shenanigumi.tumblr.com/post/153222650206/experimentation-vol-2-another-collection-of).


	27. Pegged

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Unspecified route: suggestive KazaSen. Rated M.

“Chikage, if you are going to put anything up my ass, I am going to put something up yours.” Sen crossed her arms stiffly—tone final, eyes flinty, expression forbidding—but Kazama only sighed.

“I didn’t mean to imply that I intended to put anything up your ass,” he growled, teeth grit. “Which means that putting anything up mine is uncalled for.”

“You said you were considering taking me from behind,” pointed out Sen impatiently. “And from what I understand, that means—”

“That I still intend to put you in a position with as great a possibility of conception as possible,” cut in Kazama smoothly. “Meaning that I intend to leave your perfect ass the fuck alone during my mission to avoid eye contact.”

“You’re not helping your case, calling my ass perfect,” pointed out Sen, raising her eyebrows.

“Would you rather I have called it unsightly?” asked Kazama, taking a sip of tea in as dignified a manner as possible under the circumstances. “You know I hate lying.  _However_ , as nice as your ass may be, I prefer looking at it to any number of unsavory activities.”

Sen heaved a dramatic sigh, turning around and glancing at Kazama out the corner of her eye. “And here I was looking forward to those unsavory activities.”

Kazama set down his teacup, mostly to avoid dropping it. “I… don’t follow,” he managed, wishing that were more true.

Eyes glinting, Sen turned again and approached, sweeping swiftly forward in a whirlwind of expensive fabric. “I was looking forward to being taken up the ass,” she repeated, more slowly, as though his problem was one of hearing and not of comprehension.

There was a pause as pregnant as Kazama was trying to get Sen before he could find a response. "No, Sen,” he replied eventually, glowering into his tea. “You were looking forward to the possibility of taking  _me_ up the ass as retribution. Don’t think I don’t know how your twisted mind works by now.”

Sen curled her lips into a petulant pout, to no avail, then let out a short and annoyed breath as Kazama’s countenance remained stony. “Fine, fine,” she sighed. “But after I produce an heir, once there’s no need for conception, would you at least consi—?”

“ _No_ , Sen.”


	28. Training

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Kazama's route: mild KazaChi. Rated T.

“Come.”

Taking another deep breath, Chizuru leveled her blade at Kazama and charged forward with a feeble battle cry. Kazama stood still, the barest hint of a smile playing about his lips… and then, at the last moment, stepped aside and smacked her back with the flat of his blade. Again.

At least, that was what Chizuru  _assumed_  had happened: it was still too fast for her to see. All she knew for sure was that she had suddenly ended up on the floor once more. Grimacing as her skin stung and her spine ached sharply, she pushed her hair uselessly out of her eyes and bent forward in a bow.

“Please, Kazama-san… no more,” managed Chizuru, exhausted and frail and trembling head to toe from almost an hour of what Kazama referred to as ‘training’. The next time she ended up on the ground, she might not be able to get up again.

“You were the one who asked me to teach you to use your demon powers,” pointed out Kazama, and even though Chizuru couldn’t see his expression, his tone was maddeningly smug. “Now, get up and  _come at me_. Our enemies won’t go easy on you, and neither will I.”

“But… m-my back,” panted Chizuru. Neither she nor Kazama could see it, but she was sure her back was positively purple from bruising at this point. “It hurts. I—I’m sorry…”

When Kazama said nothing, Chizuru dared to glance up at him, and found him frowning as if having just realized something. However, rather than respond in words, he simply took a few steps forward and held out his hand to help her up.

Sheathing her kodachi, Chizuru placed her palm tentatively in his, and Kazama pulled her to her unsteady feet. His strangely gentle touch lingered on her fingers for a split second before he released her hand and turned away. “We’re done training for the day,” Kazama told her, his tone as final as it had been a moment ago despite the fact that he was contradicting himself.

“W-we are?” asked Chizuru, disarmed. “But you said…” She didn’t know what compelled her to give him an opportunity to take it back, but it was done now, and she could only pray he didn’t decide to revoke his mercy.

“I’m well aware of what I said,” interrupted Kazama, sliding his sword moodily back into its scabbard. “However, I  _may_  have misjudged the situation. I assumed your healing abilities had developed enough for you to withstand repeated injuries, but… it seems that is not the case.”

“I’m sorry,” mumbled Chizuru, staring at the floor. She knew this couldn’t possibly be her fault, but Kazama sounded so  _displeased_  that she didn’t know what else to say.

A sound like a laugh startled her, and she gazed up at Kazama haltingly to find him looking her up and down, his eyes softening. “You’ve done well,” he murmured. “Rest now.”

Chizuru couldn’t help but give him a small half-smile at the unexpected praise, dipping her head and making her way out of the room as soon as she was sure that was a dismissal. It was definitely time for bed.

“Chizuru,” began Kazama softly from the hall, and she tensed, then winced as her body reminded her not to startle it like that. “Are you decent?”

“Y-yes?” replied Chizuru, bewildered. She’d barely managed to get herself into her kimono before she’d practically fallen into bed; if Kazama needed her to get dressed again for any reason, it was going to take awhile.

“Has the pain receded at all?” continued Kazama, sliding the door open and stepping inside. He wasn’t wearing his jacket, and he was missing his cravat, but he was thankfully both sober and clothed.

“I think the bruises might be gone,” Chizuru told him, truthfully. Now that they’d had a  _chance_ to heal, anyway. “But my muscles still ache. A—a little,” she added hastily. There was no reason to burden him with her problems when the pain would probably be gone by morning.

“I thought they might,” responded Kazama, a faint but genuine smile in his voice as he approached. “If you’ll allow me to help, I can try to make them feel better sooner rather than later.”

“H-how…?” began Chizuru, struggling to sit up, but Kazama knelt next to her and rested a hand lightly on her shoulder.

“No need,” he responded. “Turn around.” Though he had come here under the pretense of an offer, his tone was more akin to an order, and Chizuru didn’t dare disobey. Her heart racing uncomfortably, she rolled over to lie on her stomach, and sensed more than saw Kazama kneeling over her.

At first, Chizuru flinched at the feel of his hands on her back, even with a layer of fabric separating them; this was much too intimate for her to appreciate the gesture. “I can’t help you unless you  _let_  me,” sighed Kazama, and the pressure lifted slightly from her rigid shoulderblades. “Relax. My hands won’t wander.”

“O-okay,” was all Chizuru could say, and made a conscious effort to relax as his insistent hands started moving again. At first, she only did it so Kazama would leave her alone… but as time wore on, she found herself slowly slackening under his touch. His hands, so often used for violence, seemed so apologetic as they pressed into her skin over and over in a gentle yet firm rhythm.

Chizuru never intended to allow herself to fall asleep in such a vulnerable position, but gradually, she drifted into dreams, flitting in and out of slumber—but she surfaced again as soon as Kazama’s pressure receded, her entire body light and tingling and feeling better than it had even before the training began.

“Sleep well, Chizuru,” whispered Kazama, his breath brushing past her ear, and was gone.


	29. Second Firsts

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Kazama's route: KazaChi. Rated T.

It wasn’t their first kiss, but it may as well have been, because it was the first time  _Chizuru_  kissed  _him_.

Their real first kiss had come amid a tempest of grief and despair, such that she could hardly focus on the gesture. It seemed more like a sigh, anyway, long and light and lingering—melancholy, yet somehow hopeful, too. Proof, as Kazama told her, that they were no longer strangers… whatever  _that_ meant.

Half a year later, their second kiss was insistent to the point of oppression, burning hotter than her blush. Chizuru was no match for Kazama and his skill at manipulation, especially since he stooped low enough to take advantage of her easily flustered nature. His selfish desire cut too far into her inhibitions for her to put up a struggle.

But just because she’d frozen in the moment didn’t mean Chizuru was ready to roll over and let him have his way. Several days passed before she let him so much as touch her after that; Kazama may have been her only constant in a world of variables, but by  _no_  means did that give him the right to embarrass her in public like that.

Thankfully, he got the message and backed off… even though he refused to stop referring to her as his wife.

Still, it was all too easy to forgive his trespasses when Kazama wasn’t conscious to remind Chizuru of all his flaws. He looked so peaceful when he was sleeping, far from the man she knew to be dangerous and impossible.

Chizuru intended to get up and resume her work in another room, but her eyes snagged on his lips, and there they remained. From what little she could remember of both their previous kisses (not much, amid all the confusion), her body recalled that they were soft and gentle and felt almost  _nice_  pressed against hers.

Surely a little peck on the lips couldn’t hurt, right? Since Kazama couldn’t turn the situation against her if he was asleep…?

Moistening her lips, Chizuru crawled over to his side and leaned cautiously down, praying her hair wouldn’t tickle him into wakefulness. Heart pounding, she almost jumped when her lips brushed against his, and dared to let out a short soft exhalation through her nose as she realized she’d forgotten to breathe. Chizuru hadn’t expected kissing someone to be so… easy.

A twitch of Kazama’s lips, the beginnings of a smile, was the only indication she had of his wakefulness before his hand slid to the back of her neck. His eyes fluttered, but didn’t open; he simply propped himself up on one elbow and drew Chizuru in closer, heedless of her loss of balance as she toppled forward and pressed her palm against his chest to catch herself.

It was almost as though she had fallen asleep, herself; by the time she realized what was going on, her eyes had closed, and both their lips had parted, his tongue soft and experimental. Much to her alarm, this felt good too… although the sudden panic chilling her heart mitigated the experience somewhat.

Mustering all her remaining strength and courage, Chizuru pushed against Kazama, pulling back and struggling against the urge to wipe her mouth: his eyes half-opened lazily at last, an amused and somewhat arrogant smile playing on his lips.

“I thought you might be more willing to admit your feelings if I didn’t involve myself for once,” grinned Kazama, tilting his head as Chizuru tugged at various parts of her kimono nervously to straighten it. “And I was right.”

Chizuru’s cheeks flushed, and she clenched her fists shakily. He hadn’t been asleep at all…! “Wh-why do you always have to  _do_  that!” exclaimed Chizuru, but her hands were trembling; she and Kazama both knew she couldn’t possibly intimidate him. “See if I ever kiss you again!”

“Oh, I’m sure you will,” laughed Kazama, his voice floating down the hall after her as she abandoned all hope of salvaging either her dignity or her work ethic, and fled the room. “Sweet dreams, Chizuru. I know mine will be.”

Only as Chizuru took a deep breath in the comfort and safety of her own bedroom did she realize that she hadn’t countered Kazama’s claim that she had admitted her feelings… and  _that_ was when she knew she was in trouble.


	30. "He's unconstrained by sanity."

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Unspecified route: Saito humor. Rated T. Originally requested by peasant-hijikata.

“You’re going to fight me in a  _geisha house_? Please.”

Hijikata grits his teeth, then forcibly unclenches his fists. Well, when he puts it like  _that_ … no. Even a little bit tipsy—all right, more than a little bit—he was no fool. Hijikata might be able to hold his own with a blade if he was allowed to have one, but bare-handed, Kazama could break his neck without a second thought.

“I’ve always heard that the rabble get rowdy when they’re drunk,” remarks Kazama casually, draining his cup and looking at Hijikata out the corner of his eye. “I shouldn’t have expected any better of  _you_. Now, what’s the occasion?”

“ _Rabble_ ,” growls Hijikata. What is he, a fucking  _prince_? “Listen, Mr. Superiority Complex, you and your goddamn demon pride are getting out of hand,” he hisses. “I know better than to think I can teach you a lesson on my own, but—”

“It isn’t a  _complex_ if it’s true,” interrupts Kazama, quirking an eyebrow, but moves on before Hijikata can object. “Judging by that ‘but’, I assume you have some sort of alternative…?”

Hijikata chooses not to engage Kazama in an argument, for which he is momentarily proud of himself before he remembers to explain. “You think you’re all that because no one can touch you in a  _fight_ ,” he says instead, stumbling over the words, “but we’ve got some good drinkers on our side.”

Kazama stares at him as if trying to ascertain whether he’s serious, then actually snorts. “So you’re suggesting a  _drinking contest_?” he asks, his tone dry and disbelieving. “If you’re any indication of human tolerance, you’ll be sending someone to his death if you ask him to drink with me.”

Gritting his teeth, Hijikata levels a glare at him. “If he wins, you need to stop lauding how great demons are all the time,” he tells him. “And if  _you_  win, you’ll have earned your bragging rights.”

“Interesting,” muses Kazama, then smiles. Dangerously. “Go ahead. Send someone in.” Hijikata dips his head, very shortly, and turns to leave—but Kazama calls after him. “I just hope you have somebody on hand who's sober enough to carry him out again.”

* * *

“Commander,” begins Saito, after the long and awkward silence following Hijikata’s equally long and awkward explanation. “If I may speak my mind, this is a bad idea.”

Hijikata sighs, rubbing his forehead. “I know the situation is… less than ideal,” he responds. “But you can hold your sake better than anyone else I know. There are rumors among the men that you’re not human, and the gods only know we need that on our side to beat a demon.”

“Yes, but  _he’s_ unconstrained by sanity, physics, or his liver,” returns Saito, as mildly as he can. He may not be certain about the exact biological differences between a demon and a human, but he’s fairly sure that engaging a demon in a drinking contest is akin to an open invitation for alcohol poisoning.

Hijikata stares at him for a moment, but his eyes harden again before too long. “Get in there and drink,” he commands. “You’re the only chance we have at this point. Who  _else_  do you want me to send?” he demands, slipping his hands into his sleeves irritably. “Heisuke? Souji? They’re off in the corner, giggling about nothing. Or maybe,” he adds, “you want me to challenge Kazama  _myself._ ”

Saito holds his gaze for a moment in guarded surprise, then bows briefly and turns away. He can’t refuse a direct order from his commander, especially if the reputation of all humankind depends on his performance. He will discharge this duty, as with all others, with honor and pride in the Shinsengumi name.

…Even if he won’t remember half of it. “You’ll have to tell me how it turns out,” mumbles Saito, and departs in search of Kazama.

* * *

“How did it go?”

Kazama glances up in some surprise, swaying slightly as his head feels much heavier than he thought. “I wouldn’t have thought… you’d care,” he responds, careful not to slur his words.

“Saito is an honorable opponent,” responds Amagiri simply, crossing his arms, and his pale blue gaze is more piercing than anticipated. Nothing escapes him, does it? He can already tell the outcome just from a cursory look up and down.

Kazama sighs. “He  _did_ put up a good fight,” he admits reluctantly. “I had to drink more than I was expecting before Kondou, or whatever his name is, had to carry him off. Not to mention,” he continues, “I’d already been drinking for a couple hours before that.”

Amagiri smiles slightly. “I expect you’ll regret this in the morning.”

“Of course I won’t,” snaps Kazama, then winces at his own volume. “I  _won_. I had to listen to a lotof babbling about swords,” he adds thoughtfully, “and I’m pretty sure that at one point he was talking to Hijikata, even though he wasn’t there—but I won.”

“My apologies,” says Amagiri. “It wasn’t my intention to insinuate that a human could overpower you in any sense. I only meant that if you didn’t pause for food or water, then…” He trails off out of respect, but Kazama knows what he means to imply.

“Oh, my hangover will be  _nothing_  to his,” Kazama assures him, allowing himself a faint smile, and examines his sake cup absently. No matter what tomorrow brings him, that satisfaction will be enough to carry him through.


	31. "Take all my money!"

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Unspecified route: Okita humor. Rated T. Originally requested by doodlethewhiteraven.

“Souji,” says a distant voice. “You’re the last one sleeping. Time to get up.”

Okita groans, throwing a clumsy arm over his face; the room is too bright, even before he opens his eyes, and he can tell from his fuzzy thoughts and even hazier memories that he drank too much. Again. God damn it.

“I’m awake,” he mumbles, although he’s not entirely sure that’s true. “Hajime-kun… what  _happened_  last night?”

“I think it all started when Heisuke informed you that it was a cat’s birthday,” responds Saito, clearing his throat faintly and grimacing as though tasting something unpleasant. “He suggested we have a party in its honor, and of course Sano and Shinpachi didn’t have any objections.”

“Was it really the cat’s birthday?” asks Okita, making a halfhearted attempt to sit up. He only makes it a couple inches before he gives up and lies back again—grateful that he hadn’t made enough progress to put more space between himself and the floor.

Saito shakes his head gingerly. “I don’t know, but you didn’t need any persuading,” he says, somehow managing to sound accusatory despite his obvious hangover. “It wasn’t long before the rest of us got drawn into the festivities, too.”

Okita snorts, then swallows convulsively. “Don’t act like you don’t enjoy sake as much as the rest of us,” he remarks. “Hell, you like it more than I do. But seriously,” he adds. “Did anything interesting happen?”

After a brief hesitation, Saito turns his face away almost self-consciously and winces. “The last thing I remember isn’t very helpful,” he begins, fidgeting with the hem of his scarf uncomfortably.

Okita quirks an eyebrow and tilts his head, but Saito doesn’t seem in any hurry to make a response. “You were… roaring,” he begins eventually, his voice edged with a light sigh. “Like a dying tiger. And while the others were still laughing about it, you threw your wallet at the cat,” continues Saito, staring intently at the wall as if it will remind him. “Or… I  _think_  it was your wallet?”

Rubbing his head, Okita tries to help him out, but comes up completely empty. “And then you said, ‘You’re the only adult that lives here’ and told it to take all your money.” He pauses thoughtfully. “I think… that was when Shinpachi passed out laughing.”

“Okay then,” is all Okita can think of to say, after a long and somewhat awkward silence; Saito seems to have finished. “Thanks for bringing me up to speed.” Saito nods briefly and pushes himself to his feet, somewhat more slowly than usual.

“Hajime-kun,” says Okita, something occurring to him, and Saito halts by the door. “Let me know if you  _find_ my wallet, will you? The cat’s the only one I trust to take good care of it, so if anyone else has it…”

Saito gives the ghost of a weary smile. “I’ll confiscate it,” he assures Okita. “And if the cat still has it, for some reason…?”

“Oh, it can keep it,” Okita shrugs, and Saito takes the time to frown at him in confusion a moment before taking his leave. Only as the door slides shut does Okita realize he just offered up his money as a birthday present for a cat, and finally wonders whether he’s actually hungover yet… or still drunk.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Fanart by [nollatooru](https://nollatooru.tumblr.com/post/155990870231/oh-this-was-so-cute-d-original-story-by)!


	32. "THE MOOOOOOOON!"

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Unspecified route: vaguely suggestive HaraShira. Rated T.

Harada doesn’t know who else he expected. Shiranui is the only person—er, demon, he supposes—who would be waiting for him in his room. And the only one who would dare drink all his good sake.

As soon as Shiranui spots him, he staggers to his feet; Harada narrows his eyes, readying his spear. He’s just gotten back from a day of fighting, and he may be exhausted, but he’s more than ready for more if Shiranui is making more trouble.

“I wouldn’t do that if I were you,” he drawls, removing his pistol from its holster and twirling it in his usual flashy nonchalance. “I kicked your ass last time, remember?”

“Only because you play dirty,” growls Harada, fingers tightening on the shaft of his spear as he assesses Shiranui’s possible weaknesses. Even clearly drunk, he looks to be no less powerful for it, and though his voice has taken on a mumbling quality, he still seems lucid.

…In other words, this is as dangerous an encounter as any they’ve had before.

“Do I ever,” snorts Shiranui, slightly-bloodshot eyes widening as he sways in place. (Drunk is drunk, Harada guesses, all demon blood aside.) “Dirtier than someone like you could ever imagine. You’re as straight as your spear, aren’tcha?” he adds, looking him up and down. “What a waste.”

“I’m sorry,  _what_?” snaps Harada, but dares not make the first move. Shiranui’s aim might be a little less precise in this condition, but he still has the advantage for now. Burning as the desire for vengeance may be, Harada would rather not escalate the situation if it’s possible to talk him down.

Shiranui frowns at him, but his expression is oddly more confused than disapproving. “Don’t tell me you haven’t figured it out yet,” he mutters. “You want me to stop beating around the bush? Fine.” Shiranui takes a deep breath, then grins sharply. “I would fuck you into the moon,” he slurs, his tone almost triumphant as he readies his pistol. “ _The moooooooon_!”

“Sano!” exclaims Nagakura, bursting into the room with drawn sword—evidently attracted by the demon’s nonsensical howl—and stops short. “You,” he adds irrelevantly, staring at Shiranui in somewhat nonplussed irritation. “What the hell are  _you_  doing here?”

The glance that Shiranui tosses Nagakura in return can only be described as imperious. “You deaf, or just dumb?” he scoffs. “I was  _gonna_  fuck him into the moon—show him what he’s been missing. Then  _you_  had to show up and ruin our little date.”

“Thanks, Shinpachi,” murmurs Harada, and Nagakura nods shortly.

“Not my fault you idiots don’t know what’s good,” sighs Shiranui, gesturing for the two of them to move aside and let him pass: Harada stands down and, after a brief hesitation and a glare as much of surprise as anger, Nagakura follows suit. “Except the sake.  _That_  was awesome.”

“You  _drank_ our  _sake_?” exclaims Nagakura, looking as though he’s considering going back on the offensive, but Harada moves between the two of them as subtly as possible. He’d like nothing better than to avenge their alcohol, too, but demons are dangerous, even when they’re drunk and outnumbered.

“Yeah,” responds Shiranui, bringing his sharp and playful eyes up to Harada’s. “Thanks, and also fuck you. Literally. Hit me up if you ever change your mind.” And just like that—heedless of Harada’s grimace, or of Nagakura opening his mouth in preparation to yell obscenities—he was gone, leaving nothing but the empty sake jugs to prove that he was ever there at all.


	33. "My entire left arm went numb."

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Saito's route: suggestive SaiChi with a side of ambiguous OkiSai. Rated M. Originally requested by moon-faced-pear-shaped.

The more Saito thought about it, the more the idea seemed to consume his thoughts, until finally he decided that maybe Okita had a point. Saito will tolerate no weakness, so exploring what little of himself remains unknown is the only solution.

But, despite his newfound resolution, Saito isn’t sure what he’s supposed to think about. He can’t remember whatever dreams he may have once had, and there doesn’t seem to be any correlation with his thoughts and how his body mimics the rising sun.

What, then, is he supposed to contemplate…? Things he likes, probably, if he’s supposed to be cultivating pleasure. But what  _does_  he like? Being an asset to the Shinsengumi. Sake. Swords. Tofu. Victory.

…Chizuru?

Saito’s breath catches as his heart skips a beat, quickening just before it slows. It’s probably like meditation, he thinks suddenly; he’ll need to relax first. But thinking of Chizuru  _inherently_ flusters him for some reason, so—

Maybe if he redirects that agitation somehow, and tries to imagine what it’s like to want a woman in the here and now…?

No; that’s useless. Sex, and all its derivatives, have never appealed much to Saito before. Why should they? Intercourse is off-limits in his mind to all but scoundrels and married couples, and it developed first as a means of reproduction. Pleasure is merely a side effect; even bringing it upon oneself has the same connotations in his mind.

…But…  _Chizuru_. Saito almost smiles as the relief of certainty crashes inexplicably over him. He doesn’t need to consider himself in the here and now, but rather, his goals for the future. Perhaps, if Saito finds a stable occupation someday, one which does not require him to risk his life… and if he and Chizuru are happily married… then…

…A stirring, surprising, satisfying in and of itself. Saito and Chizuru will be wed, and she will want him like a wife  _should_  want her husband. And if she wants him, then the least he can do is to think of how he will fulfill her. Yes; that’s the only thing to do…

Saito sighs deeply, closes his eyes, and gives himself over to imagination coupled with the senses. Starting slowly, of course, warming himself up to the idea, giving himself the courage to think in hypotheticals. The burning blush rising to his cheeks transfers to Chizuru’s in his mind, her illusory brown eyes pleading for something he’s never wanted to give before.

And gods help him, now that he’s started, he’s never wanted to give anything  _more_.

* * *

The sensation was… stronger… than anticipated.

Stumbling back from the inn to the compound, much more exhausted than he thought he would be after so little activity (at least in comparison to the kind of swordplay in which he is better versed), Saito would like nothing better than to go back on his word and fall asleep… but he can’t break a promise, no matter how stupid it may be.

Only a few hours ago, the damning words tumbled out of his mouth that he was considering doing this. Of course, Okita answered with a smile and a sly request that Saito come back later to give a report. Like the fool he was, Saito agreed—so here he stands at Okita’s door.

It slides open even before Saito raises his hand to knock. “There you are,” says Okita, stepping aside to let him pass, and shuts the door behind him. “Have fun?”

His eyes are piercing as usual, but Saito can’t even look at his face. “My entire left arm went numb,” he mumbles self-consciously, flexing his fingers a few times. It’s regained most of its feeling by now, thankfully, but it was still an unpleasant surprise once he had come down out of that hazy high.

Okita looks almost apologetic in the darkness, but also like he’s trying not to laugh. “You need to get that checked to make sure you’re not wired to have strokes instead of orgasms,” he tells him, crossing his arms.

“ _No_ , thank you,” responds Saito stiffly. “If no one else ever hears about this, it’ll be too soon. Now, I’m going back to the inn and sleeping,” he continues, turning back to the door and opening it again. “I’ve wasted enough time tonight, and I only came back to say it’s done.”

“If you say so,” snickers Okita, tilting his head. “No one has any room to judge you, so I wouldn’t worry too much about the others finding out. Good night, Hajime-kun,” he adds, closing the door, but his voice continues on the other side: “Dream of Chizuru-chan.”

“Shut up—!” begins Saito, but only as he speaks does he realize that he had never informed Okita as to his private thoughts, and claps a hand over his mouth too late as his friend’s triumphant giggling wafts down the hall after him.

Striding on, Saito can only content himself with thinking that however perceptive Okita may be about the  _gist_  of his fantasies, at least he can’t possibly know the exact content. Perhaps the more practiced among the men might think along different lines, but Saito had lost himself somewhere in a kiss. Just a kiss—that’s all.

(In order to keep his conscience clear, as well as for continuity’s sake, he needed to lay the imaginary scene with enough context that he could imagine more than that, but he vastly overestimated the time it would take for him to climax. So a kiss from his imaginary Chizuru was enough to push him there, the best and only one he’d ever had.)

…But maybe, if he picks up where he left off tomorrow, Saito will have enough stamina to consider all that might happen after  _that_.


	34. "So apparently there is enough alcohol…"

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Unspecified route: Saito humor. Rated T. Originally requested by moon-faced-pear-shaped.

“Saito,” greets Hijikata, glancing up from his work with some surprise. Considering his insanely high tolerance, it’s unusual for him to come back from a night out drinking before all the others. Even considering the lateness of the hour, his arrival comes a lot earlier than Hijikata anticipated.

…That said, something seems to be wrong. It’s always difficult to tell how drunk Saito is, honestly, but Hijikata would hazard a guess that he’s pretty far gone just from his bearing, and the way he’s glancing around surreptitiously. That, or he’s just embarrassed, although he likely has no real reason to be.

It’s a long time before Saito speaks, but as Hijikata decides to just go back to his work, his words come pouring out like sake all at once. “So apparently there is enough alcohol to get me to agree to going to a pleasure house,” bursts out Saito, “but when I have enough, they don’t let me in.”

There is a deafening silence; Hijikata isn’t sure at first that he heard him right. Even after the mortified expression on Saito’s crimson face tells him that his ears  _weren’t_  playing tricks on him, he can’t think of an appropriate response. “Oh,” is all Hijikata can say, struggling not to laugh. Is that really all? Saito has never missed girls before, and he’ll probably be grateful in the morning… if he even remembers.

But in the moment, Saito looks ready to cry. “I’m sorry, Commander,” says Saito. “I shouldn’t have agreed t-to—”

Sensing a needlessly long and self-loathing spiel, Hijikata cuts in as smoothly as he can to save time, patience, and energy. “Don’t worry about it,” he says, and Saito halts immediately. “That’s an order, now. And so is this: go to bed.”

“Y-yes, sir,” stammers Saito, and lurches off in the direction of his bedroom without further explanation or apology. As he vanishes mutely down the corridor, Hijikata almost regrets shutting him up so soon; the likelihood of blacking all this out is extremely high, and it isn’t like Saito to misbehave.

How on earth could  _he_  have been turned away when Nagakura had passed through the gates unchecked…?

* * *

“I heard,” says Hijikata, by way of good-morning, “that the bouncers wouldn’t let Saito into the  _establishment_ you visited last night.” Nagakura and Harada exchange a startled glance, stopping uncertainly in the doorway as if expecting to be punished. “I’m not angry,” amends Hijikata as calmly as he can, and the two captains relax almost imperceptibly. “Now, tell me what happened.”

Harada sighs, shaking his head. “He was having a heated discussion with someone who  _wasn’t there_ ,” he returns, and Nagakura nods emphatically. “He was absolutely convinced that somebody turned him away at the door, even though you know that at his drunkest he barely looks tipsy.”

“So basically, he cockblocked himself and thought it was someone else,” summarizes Nagakura, crossing his arms as if still in disbelief. “His loss.”

Hijikata smiles. “Thanks,” he says, raising his teacup in something of a toast. Even drunk, Saito still knows his own best interests, and Hijikata has never been more envious of his steadfast inner moral compass—even inebriated.

A dark shambling motion in the corner of his eye distracts Hijikata, and Nagakura and Harada trace his gaze to find exactly what they all expect: Saito, shielding his eyes from the morning sunlight and grimacing because he can’t see his audience yet.

Of course, as soon as he spots the three of them, he halts immediately, almost falling as he tries to regain his composure… but of course, any effort to maintain his dignity is compromised by his first hoarse words: “What… exactly…  _happened_  last night…?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Fanart by [nollatooru](https://nollatooru.tumblr.com/post/155017628676/i-couldnt-resist-xd-because-drabbles-from)!


	35. "I'll pay you back…"

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Okita's route: suggestive OkiChi. Rated T.

Sinking onto one of the inn-room futons in the lazy afternoon sunlight—not yet painful, but still enervating—Chizuru has time only to reflect that she never wants to get out of bed again before she finds herself drifting off.

Still, despite her fatigue, it isn’t a sound sleep. In fact, it’s almost uneasy, as though she knows something’s coming. She surfaces now and again as if waking from a nightmare, half-opening her eyes, checking to make sure that Okita is still sleeping on the other futon some distance away.

That light and nervous slumber claims her over and over again, but come sunset, her unthought premonition comes true. Perhaps roused by the sharp shift in his breathing, Chizuru snaps awake in an instant: Okita is shuddering and shaking, his hair whitening even as she watches.

She hasn’t yet experienced the throes of agony he must endure, but she refuses to roll over and go back to sleep while he suffers. “Drink,” exclaims Chizuru, grabbing her kodachi and scrambling across the room to his side. “Please, Okita-san, drink.”

“Don’t have to tell me… twice,” pants Okita, struggling to sit up, but wobbles and falls back again as soon as Chizuru unsheathes and hands over the kodachi. “Here—lie next to me. Please.”

Chizuru obeys without hesitation, lying on her side and shivering as he brushes her hair away. He opens a small cut along the side of her neck, almost at her collarbone; he’s never sliced her in such an intimate place before. In fact, thinking rapidly back, Chizuru is reasonably sure that she’s inflicted all her own wounds until now.

Bleeding is almost painless by now… but Chizuru’s breath still catches for reasons she doesn’t quite understand until Okita speaks again: “I’ll pay you back with progressively deviant sexual favors,” he murmurs, words slurred and indistinct and almost delirious.

“Wh-what?” gasps Chizuru, her voice almost a squeal of surprise as the blush rises to her cheeks, but Okita does not respond in words. He only props himself up on one elbow, his hot breath brushing her skin—bows his head to bring his mouth tenderly to her cut—and drinks, his swallowing gradual and deep.

…Maybe it’s just how close they are, but this bloodlust seems to last much longer than usual, and it feels more like… a kiss. Perhaps subconsciously, Okita slides his forearm along Chizuru’s midriff to draw her closer still. As his front presses against her back so that she can feel his body heat, gods help her, she discovers that she  _likes_ it.

She likes the involuntary little sounds of satisfaction in the back of Okita’s throat, like a suckling wolf pup. She likes the aliveness she can feel in his pulse, and the inexplicable cocktail of emotions she can feel flowing into her from his mouth. Chizuru will gladly spend all her days just like this, held seemingly safe in the arms of a bloodthirsty monster, until he drinks her dry.

Finally, the cut closes beneath Okita’s searching tongue, and he lets out a sigh: Chizuru senses the bloodlust leave him at last. “What a way to wake up,” he mumbles, and though he withdraws his forearm from her stomach, his hand comes to rest on her waist. “Thanks, Chizuru-chan.”

“D-did you really… mean that?” asks Chizuru, thankful that she is not facing him; she doubts very much whether she’d be able to meet his eyes. She can’t bring herself to repeat Okita’s words back to him, but she’s sure he’ll know what she’s talking about.

“Mean what?” asks Okita. To her bewilderment, there is no hint of mischief in his voice—only genuine confusion, and possibly a little wariness. “My thanks? Of course I did. You don’t  _have_ to give me your blood, and you know it.”

“No, I…” manages Chizuru, then loses all courage and shakes her head vigorously. “N-never mind.”

Okita chuckles. “In that case, I’m going back to sleep,” he tells her. “You wanna join me?” As he speaks, he runs his hand up and down the length of her body; the sensation is far from relaxing, but Chizuru likes the wayin which it sets her on edge. His touch is gentle and pleasant… even if it apparently doesn’t mean anything after all.

“Yes, Okita-san,” breathes Chizuru, her heart skipping a beat, and does her best to relax. She can’t see Okita’s expression, but she thinks he lets out a small sigh of something like relief as he lies down. He’s careful not to let their bodies touch this time, out of respect or propriety… although his hand still lingers.

Their breathing slowly synchronizes, and Chizuru starts allowing her mind to stray, slipping in and out of sleep. And it’s probably just a part of a dream, but just before she drifts off for good, she thinks she can hear Okita whisper—“Yes, I meant it, Chizuru-chan. Someday.”


	36. "Bring kittens. I am a genius."

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Post-Okita's route: fluffy OkiChi. Rated T.

“Chizuru!” exclaims Okita, bursting out of the house into the yard; Chizuru looks up in surprise from hanging out the laundry. He looks flushed-faced, clearly too excited to be distressed… but where Okita is concerned, that doesn’t bode any better. “I just thought of something!”

“Souji-san,” greets Chizuru, dipping her head, at a loss for what else to do. “What’s going on?” She shivers as she speaks, a chilly breeze seeming to cut right through her. Winter is almost here, and they only rebuilt the Yukimura house a couple seasons ago.

Okita grins at her. “Bring kittens,” he tells her, as authoritatively as the captain he used to be. “I am a  _genius_.”

“K-kittens…?” asks Chizuru, nonplussed and somewhat alarmed. “I don’t even know where to  _find_  kittens. And even if I did,” she adds, remembering abruptly to resume her work before she gets too cold, “why do you want me to bring some  _here_?”

“You don’t need a  _reason_ to get kittens,” scoffs Okita, but there is just enough affection in his tone that Chizuru doesn’t flinch. “But if you  _must_ know, I was thinking… cats could keep us nice and warm at night. And if they’re still young, they’ll be around for longer.” He smiles more widely still. “That’s all.”

Chizuru stares at him for a moment, then giggles. “ _That’s_ your idea for keeping us warm at night?” she asks. “I’d have thought you’d suggest something… different.” Only as she speaks does she realize she’s backing herself into a corner, as a light ignites somewhere deep behind Okita’s eyes.

“Oh?” he asks, almost purring, like he’s a cat himself. “I can’t  _wait_  to hear what you thought I’d say.”

“Never mind,” begins Chizuru hastily, a blush rising to her cheeks, but—heedless of her tone—Okita paces around behind her in mocking menace. “I still have chores to do!” she adds, more desperately, but it’s too late. He’s got her, and they both know it.

“That’s nice,” replies Okita dismissively, embracing Chizuru from behind, and lowers his head to whisper in her ear. “But while your mind’s still in the gutter,  _I_  think you’d rather do  _me_.”

* * *

“So,” begins Okita, as they lie sprawled together on the entry room floor, still catching their breath from their latest swift encounter. “Is  _that_ what you thought I’d suggest?”

Chizuru nods, rolling her face into Okita’s shoulder, and relishing the feeling of his arm around her waist. There’s no reason to try to cling to her dignity by refusing to admit she considered such a thought, given what they just did. “It just… seemed… like a solution you’d come up with,” she explains.

“And it  _does_  work,” says Okita, evidently satisfied. “Good job thinking of that before I did… kind of. It definitely crossed my mind,” he adds thoughtfully, “but I didn’t want to push anything on you, even if we’ve done it before. Hence the kitten idea.”

There’s a long silence, and Chizuru feels that somehow, she’s the one expected to break it. “I’ll consider it, Souji-san,” she tells him finally, and Okita frowns in confusion. He’s already moved far beyond the kittens in his mind. “The cat thing, I mean.”

She half-expects Okita to say he was only joking, that it was all an elaborate trap to get her to lie with him, but… “Good,” says Okita, hugging Chizuru a little more tightly. “And you know something else?”

It’s almost childish, the way he says that sometimes, but Chizuru smiles indulgently all the same. “What is it, Souji-san?”

Okita swallows before he responds, as if it takes more courage than he admits to speak. “It’ll also be good practice for taking care of something more than ourselves,” he murmurs eventually, stroking her hair, “because who knows? We might not be alone forever.”


	37. "You get five minutes."

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Unspecified route: suggestive HaraShira. Rated M.

Shiranui closes the door behind them, and with it any opportunity for Harada to change his mind. Just like that, they stand in the demon’s room at the inn—messy to the point of uninhabitability, yet somehow endearingly so. Harada is used to this kind of disarray, given the company he keeps more often than not. It’s admittedly something of a relief for him to find an ounce of familiarity, however unconventional, in the midst of a foreign experience.

But the way Shiranui would undoubtedly put it, they’re not going to be focusing on their surroundings any more than they would if they were with the most beautiful geisha in Kyoto. Harada has his doubts, of course, given that he isn’t acting on a dare, nor does he naturally seek out male company… but Shiranui’s peculiar insistence intrigues him.

What possessed him to come up to his room like this? They both know what he wants, although the  _why_  of it remains a mystery. “You get five minutes,” decides Harada, crossing his arms, and Shiranui throws him a look he can’t interpret. Derisive? Amused? The line between the two of them has always been blurry on his sharp features.

“Your time limits don’t scare me,” scoffs Shiranui. A mixture of both, then. “I’ll include foreplay andredressing in that five minutes. If you wanted to challenge me, you should have said ‘You got an hour’,” he adds, looking Harada up and down almost wistfully. “I’d be scared  _then_ , and more creative.”

“An  _hour_ ,” repeats Harada despite himself, incredulous. As experienced he is in his own bedroom, to which he has only ever admitted women, he’s entirely at a loss when it comes to other men’s. How can they fill an hour with… whatever it is Shiranui plans on doing? Harada is unaccustomed to being innocent, and it makes him uneasy.

“What’s the matter?” asks Shiranui, tilting his head, and Harada narrows his eyes at his tone—a kind of warm sarcasm, simultaneously biting and genuine. “Haven’t you ever lasted that long before?”

“Of course I have,” retorts Harada, stung; that isn’t the issue at hand, but he can’t ignore a direct insult like that. “What do you take me for, anyway?”

Shiranui does not answer his question, such as it is; rather, he gives a satisfied or even impressed hum. “Good,” he tells him. “Human males are so weak. All you have to do is  _look_  at them the right way, and their night is over.” He pauses, pursing his lips. “Maybe that’s why I like women too. More of a challenge. And more… interesting.”

“You can say that again,” agrees Harada, scowling. “So… why set your sights on me?”

Shiranui grins wolfishly. “Because  _you’re_  interesting, too, and in better ways,” he says, as though it should be obvious. “And you’re also the most attractive human I’ve seen in a long time, male or female. That’s all.” Harada blinks rapidly at this unexpected praise and opens his mouth, but can say nothing. “And don’t forget that  _you_  agreed to come back to my room,” adds Shiranui, smirking.

“I was just  _curious_ ,” protested Harada, glaring at the wall in a halfhearted attempt to preserve his dignity. He’s just making it worse for himself, he knows, making it easier for Shiranui to target his insecurities, but… the verbal assault he expects doesn’t happen, and he glances back at Shiranui to find him looking faintly uncomfortable.

“Look, Harada,” says Shiranui, and a shiver Harada doesn’t understand runs through his body as the demon addresses him by name. “If you don’t want to do this, do us both a favor and get out. I’m not into pressuring people.”

“It’s… not that,” says Harada lamely, but with immediacy that surprises them both. “It’s more like I don’t really… know what I’m supposed to…  _do_?”

Shiranui smiles, and Harada thinks there might be a note of relief in his usual mischievous grin. “You’ll learn,” he assures him, taking a few jaunty steps forward, and reaches out his hand to poke Harada’s face.

It takes some concentration, but Harada doesn’t flinch, although something like electricity runs through him at the realization that this is the first time they have touched directly. “That’s a good sign,” remarks Shiranui in a low voice, his touch becoming a caress. “Now, forget the fact that we’re both men, and focus on the fact that we’re both beautiful creatures who like to have a good time.”

Shiranui does not stir, but Harada’s breath shortens slightly, a telltale throb of anticipation racing through his body. What’s  _happening_ to him…?! Harada stumbles a couple steps forward to close some of the distance, as if something pushed him from behind, but Shiranui still does not make any moves; he only brushes Harada’s face almost tenderly with his thumb.

“Our five minutes starts now,” murmurs Shiranui, almost purring—and maybe it’s the sake, or maybe it’s demon magic, but to Harada, five minutes suddenly seems like much too short a time.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Fanart by [reptilmastaren](http://reptilmastaren.tumblr.com/post/155826425758/quick-sketch-based-on-a-drabble-shenanigumi)!


	38. Demon Hunting

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Kazama's route: implied HijiChi; ambiguous KazaChi. Rated T.

“You sent for me, sir?” asks Chizuru’s voice timidly, and Hijikata turns to find her peeking around the open door. Good; this shouldn’t take long.

“Yes,” replies Hijikata, turning around to face her as she enters his office, closing the door respectfully behind her. “Yamazaki tells me you ran into Kazama while you were running errands in town. He gave me a report, but I wanted to…”  _Make sure you’re all right_ surfaces in his mind, but he says instead, “Hear it from you.”

A tiny frown creases Chizuru’s brow, but it’s gone again so quickly Hijikata might have imagined it. Having spent this much time around him as his page, she’s learning to disguise her emotions, for better or for worse. “Nothing happened, really,” she assures him, but there is a slight hesitation in her voice that makes Hijikata think something definitely happened. “He just ran into us, made his usual remarks, and went on his way.”

“His usual remarks?” asks Hijikata.

Chizuru frowns more overtly this time, thinking back. “Calling the shogunate dogs, and things like that,” she says. “Yamazaki was going to challenge him, but I didn’t want him to get hurt, so I asked why Kazama was there, to distract him. He said… he was going out for sake.”

Her voice is just a little uncertain, enough to make Hijikata think there’s something else there. “Anything else?” prompts Hijikata, scrutinizing her countenance carefully.

“He said…” begins Chizuru, coloring slightly, and drops her gaze and voice alike. “He told me if I followed him… he might let me pour him a drink.” Hijikata stares at her; something catches in her voice, almost as though she’d wanted to add  _again_ but had stopped herself at the last second. Hijikata takes back what he’d thought earlier about her becoming a better liar.

“Yukimura,” says Hijikata, and she jerks her head up, barely meeting his eyes. “Have you… poured him sake  _before_?”

That’s definitely alarm flashing in her eyes, perhaps even fear. “O-only once!” insists Chizuru, her tone panicky, hands clenching fistfuls of her hakama. “That night I dressed up as a geisha to infiltrate the Sumi for information! He—he found me in the room where I was waiting for you, and—well, it doesn’t matter, because he gave me the information I—”

“ _He_ gave you the information we needed?” demands Hijikata, rising from his seat to look down at her. This was news to him, and unpleasant at that. “In exchange for what?!”

“M-maybe he  _teased_  me a little, but all I did was pour him sake!” squeaks Chizuru, staring up at him. Her eyes are so big and helpless; it wouldn’t surprise Hijikata in the least if Kazama thought the same. How dare he  _tease_ her! “I promise, Hijikata-san, that’s all it was!”

“If I’d known he was the one to give you that information, I’d have tracked him down a lot sooner,” growls Hijikata, striding over to the other end of the room to pluck up his swords. Hijikata shoves them unceremoniously into his uwa-obi. Chizuru cowers as if in fear of execution, but she’ll thank him later.

“Wh-where are you going, Hijikata-san?” calls Chizuru, noticing for the first time the empty jug of sake lying by his desk. The Shinsengumi’s affairs must be worse than she thought if he’s self-medicating like this; oddly, the thought calms her. So this outburst isn’t her fault after all…

“Demon hunting,” snaps Hijikata, adjusting his swords, and marches out.


	39. Punishment Enough

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Unspecified route: Kazama humor. Rated T.

“Not again,” growled Hijikata, shifting his grip on his hilt as an unfortunately familiar shape emerged from the shadows. He didn’t have  _time_  for this bullshit. They’d just moved into another compound, and he’d just finished coordinating with Saito to check in on the Guardians of the Imperial Tomb. The sooner he got back to report to Kondou, the better… but it seemed someone was intent on thwarting him.

…It  _seemed_. Rather than immediately draw his sword, Kazama raised his hands in an entirely unfamiliar gesture of surrender, so foreign in this form that Hijikata wondered whether it was an accident or meant something entirely different. But the voice, and the words, said otherwise: “I’m just here to talk.”

Hijikata frowned, grip tightening on his sword. Why would Kazama be here to  _talk_? He’d raided their last compound once, injured and killed several of their men, and made it quite clear that he had no interest in negotiations—not that the Shinsengumi would have obliged him even if he  _had_.

But it looked like Kazama really was alone this time, no other demons to support him, and Hijikata knew enough about his attitude to know that lying wasn’t his style. Not that Hijikata planned on getting too ambitious, but it was nice to know he didn’t have any backup. “Take me to the others,” added Kazama, not waiting for acknowledgment. “The more of your men you bring, the fewer times I’ll have to repeat myself.”

There was just enough of an underlying threat in his voice that Hijikata saw no other option than to nod hesitantly, stepping aside to let Kazama go before him; there was no way he was about to turn his back on an enemy like that. The barest hint of a smile tugged at Kazama’s mouth as he dipped his head and passed him by, and Hijikata paced along slowly behind him, speaking only to direct him to the compound.

As the seconds wore on, Hijikata found himself narrowing his eyes at Kazama’s back. It would be so easy to cut him down, he thought, fingers twitching in a sudden thirst for violence. If he could just angle the blade right, and get him through the heart… “Don’t even think about it,” remarked Kazama, and Hijikata started. “One foolish move, and I’ll cut you down where you stand.” His threat was idly delivered, but Hijikata had no doubt he would act on it with the slightest provocation.

Heaving a sigh, Hijikata resigned himself to escorting Kazama the rest of the way to the compound in peace and silence… until they entered the main hall. “Commander,” began Yamazaki, wide-eyed, and sank smoothly into a combat stance. “What—?”

Hijikata cut him off with a jerk of his head. “Fetch the captains, but let Souji and Chizuru sleep,” he ordered, and though Yamazaki hesitated, he obeyed almost immediately. Hijikata, meanwhile, seated himself at the front of the room and gestured that Kazama should sit beside him:  _keep your friends close and your enemies closer_ , or so they always said.

It wasn’t long before most of the captains were gathered—weapons at the ready, of course, although it was Hijikata’s private hope that they wouldn’t have to use them. Backup or no, Kazama could undoubtedly end all of them with minimal effort if they gave him a reason. “What do you want?” asked Hijikata, and all eyes turned to Kazama.

He raised his eyebrows as if the question surprised him, but his face was impassive as he responded. “The same thing I’ve always wanted,” answered Kazama coolly. “Chizuru.”

“Well, in that case, we’re going to have to disappoint you,” sighed Okita’s voice, and Hijikata glanced up sharply to find him standing in the doorway, already dressed. He should have known better than to think Okita wouldn’t already be planning on eavesdropping on his report about Saito. “Sorry about that.”

“Why do you want her so bad, anyway?” asked Harada, frowning. “I mean, sure, she’d make a good wife, but she’s not yours. Find your own. There are plenty of fish in the sea, and all that.”

“There are  _not_ ,” Kazama corrects him irritably. “Chizuru is one of a kind. A pureblooded female, the scion of the eastern demons.” He rolls his eyes, slipping his hands into his sleeves. “I won’t find any such prize in Shimabara.” 

“No, but you can still get some tail,” countered Nagakura, crossing his arms. “All you have to do is find some other black-haired brown-eyed beauty, and let’s face it, that’s not too hard. That’s the next best thing, right?”

Kazama glared at him. “I wouldn’t know.”

There was a moment of very still silence as all the captains exchanged bewildered glances. That could mean many things, but… “You wouldn’t know,” repeated Hijikata slowly. “As in, you’ve never actually  _been_  with a woman before…?”

Kazama’s face turns slightly red, and Hijikata blinked at him as his guess was confirmed. He’d only half been expecting that answer. “I am unmarried,” he said, as though that should mean anything. “According to demonic tradition, no one except my wife is allowed to touch me in such a way.”

“Then why don’t you just touch  _yourself_?” suggested Okita, still leaning lazily against the doorway, and examines one of his hands reminiscently. “Maybe then you’d stop taking out all your frustrations on us.”

“ _Souji_ ,” snaps Inoue, reddening in shock and outrage, and tosses him a glower that could probably freeze fire—at least when combined with Kazama’s own frigid disapproval. “If you don’t have anything  _useful_  to say, be quiet.”

“What?” asks Okita, unabashed and unrepentant as ever, and does not even glance their way. “It’s true. And that  _is_ useful.”

Kazama, meanwhile, takes a deep breath and looks Hijikata levelly in the eye, his stony demeanor unnerving. He may not make a habit of lying, but Hijikata doesn’t like those veiled eyes. “Are you, or are you not, going to hand over Chizuru?”

“We’re not,” responded Hijikata, tilting his head slightly. How could he possibly think otherwise? “I thought that was pretty clear from the start. Why did you even bother coming here?”

“Amagiri told me talking might be more conducive to our ends,” replied Kazama disdainfully. “I thought I’d give it a try, hoping that you might see sense once I informed you of my situation.” He pushed himself to his feet, and the captains tensed, ready for anything. “Farewell, Wolves of Mibu,” he added, making his way to the door at a leisurely pace. “Next time we meet, I’ll kill you all.”

As Kazama retreated, as unexpectedly as he had arrived, the captains stared silently after him, more alarmed by his sudden coming and going than anything which had transpired in between. “Are you really just going to let him go, Hijikata-san?” asked Okita, scowling, and glanced sidelong at the Commander.

Hijikata frowned and opened his mouth to reply, but Nagakura laughed before he could say anything. “Look, the man just admitted to all of us that he’s never been laid,” he chortled, eyeing Kazama’s back in merry sympathy. “Don’t you think that’s punishment enough?”


	40. "And everyone will high-five me…"

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Modern AU: Kazama humor. Rated T.

Kazama never had a reason to drink before Chizuru turned him down, but he makes up for that in spades once she makes her feelings—or rather, lack thereof—quite clear.

He’d like more than anything else to argue, but he doesn’t. He just turns away and goes home. There’s a strange hollow silence in his chest that doesn’t make sense to him, and he can only think of one thing that might fill it up again besides her.

Sake.

…Except he doesn’t know his limit. He figures that out once he decides it’s a good idea to call Shiranui. Five times. While he’s in the mood to tell people how he really feels, why not tell him how much he hates him? Shiranui’s the one who said he should talk to Chizuru, after all, so this is really his fault.

His phone rings another hour in. He’s slowed down, at least, because now he feels things. A burning in his throat and a sluggishness inside, which is a little better than emptiness. Feels more manageable, anyway. More understandable. A cause has an effect, after all, and he is still in control.

His phone is still ringing. Shit. Kazama picks it up in a hurry, fumbling slightly, and answers it. “Finally calling back, are you?” he asks, staring at the ceiling. “It’s about time. I’m not done with you yet.” Talking is harder than he thought. He hasn’t talked much since he left those messages.

“What are you talking about?” asks a voice. Not Shiranui’s. Amagiri’s. Oh. “Do you mean your attempts to contact Shiranui? He called me just now, saying I should make sure you’re okay.”

Kazama scowls. “I’m  _fine_ ,” he insists, a little too forcefully, and swallows. Just a little queasiness, he thinks. It’s fine. “Because I have another plan.” He doesn’t really. He’s just saying that. But it’ll be fine, it’ll be fine. He’ll come up with something on the spot if he has to.

“Oh?” asks Amagiri. Shit. He has to. Okay.

Taking a deep breath, Kazama gathers what remains of his thoughts. “I’m gonna ask her again,” he slurs. “I’ll ask her again and again and again till she says yes.” Yes, yes, this is an ingenious plan! All he  _needs_  is a yes, and then he’ll be all set. She has to fall for him at  _some_ point.

“I really don’t think—” begins Amagiri, sounding somewhat alarmed.

“And then everyone will high-five me,” continues Kazama, “and girls will approach me offering blowjobs…” Amagiri clears his throat aggressively, but Kazama keeps right on rambling. “Which I’ll turn down because Chizuru wouldn’t like that, probably.”

There is a long silence, and Kazama beams at nothing. This is perfect. All he needed was a little liquid courage to show him the way. Why did he let himself think even for a moment that persistence should end as soon as he heard her say ‘no’? No successful man ever let a ‘no’ get in his way… and that’s a good thing, right?  _Right_?

“…I’ll be over in five minutes,” says Amagiri flatly, and hangs up.


	41. Returning the Favor

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Post-Saito's route: SaiChi. For impracticaldemon.

It was a generally accepted fact that Saito  _never_  got sick.

All throughout his time at Shiei Hall, and later with the Shinsengumi, he had managed to avoid sickness. Among his friends, his immune system was the subject of much envy, regarded as almost inhuman—along with his other alleged superpower, in the form of an absurdly high tolerance for alcohol.

Saito had never thought himself capable of being lulled into a false sense of security, and in fact prided himself on his constant vigilance, but he must have grown so used to being healthy that he forgot he was still susceptible to illness. There was no other explanation for allowing himself to awaken with a congested nose for the first time in years.

Hovering between sleep and wakefulness in the early hours of the morning, Saito thought he was dreaming of suffocation, but he quickly realized that he actually could not breathe. Moreover, his throat felt parched, prickling when he swallowed, and he gave a faint (and painful) groan. This may be the entirely understandable result of ignoring Chizuru’s gentle warning last evening.

The long northern winter was just beginning, the air crisp and cold and delightfully clear, and Saito had wanted to stay outside and stargaze long after Chizuru was ready to sleep. (This was hardly unusual, considering that he still had some nocturnal tendencies from the fury blood.) In response to his… assistant’s… tentatively expressed concern about his health, he had given her noncommittal assurance that he would not be long after. The quality of the silence told Saito that Chizuru did not believe him, but she did not dare argue.

Now, more than a small part of him wished that she had.

Then again, thought Saito, rolling over with a snuffling sigh, he  _had_  been considering several rather important matters—among them, how exactly he should ask Chizuru to marry him. Perhaps he should pick up some ceremonial sake and insist the neighbor gave it to him; he has certainly been forward enough in his implications for it to be believable. And his own sentiments, likewise, might be easier for him to state as though they are someone else’s.

Of course, none of that mattered right now; he could never go out to get any sake in this state, ceremonial or not, and he certainly didn’t want to get his future fiancée sick. It would be better just to go about life as usual until his full recovery, and hope their workload was light in the meantime.

…Right. Saito supposed that meant it was time to get up; he could hear Chizuru in the next room, busying herself with breakfast as usual. He’d never hear the end of it if she found out he had ignored her warning, and she hardly deserved to fret over him after he brought this upon himself. Hauling himself out of bed, and almost staggering as his head and body felt light and heavy at the same time, he pulled on his clothes and tried valiantly not to miss any buttons.

As usual, Chizuru was focused on her work in the kitchen, but took the time to glance over at him as he shuffled out of his room. “Good morning, Saito-san,” she greeted him, just like always, but was thankfully too preoccupied with her cooking to take a good look at him right away. (Saito was sure her food was as delicious as ever, but he couldn’t smell it at all, and his appetite seemed to be mysteriously absent.)

“Good morning,” returned Saito… or tried to. His voice came out faint and hoarse, and the words made his throat smart a little. Struggling not to wince, he knelt at the table and fixed his eyes firmly on the surface before him, praying his condition would go unnoticed. Even the smallest sniffle could give him away…

“ _Oh_  no,” said Chizuru, and Saito realized with a jolt that even his tone of voice had been enough to catch her attention. She was much more observant than she let on, and often underestimated because of her bewitchingly innocent face; Saito had a habit of forgetting that he was more often than not among her underestimators. “I was afraid of this, after last night. Unless you feel like eating a little something, you need to go back to bed right now.”

Saito blinked a few times at her tone. “I’m… fine,” he told her, but his tongue felt dry and sluggish in his mouth, and he knew the instant he spoke that she would never believe him.

“You can’t work too well if you’re sick,” explained Chizuru, ignoring his protest in a fitting mirror of his own actions last night. “And you’ll only stay sick  _longer_  if you try anyway. It’ll be much more effective for you to rest now, and work later.”

“But I  _have_  to work,” mumbled Saito, unsure what else he should say. Coherent thoughts were surprisingly hard to come by in this condition, and he couldn’t bring himself to pull rank on her, considering their situation. (His resolution wavered still further as an unfamiliar little voice whispered that if he cooperated, Chizuru would be much more likely to accept his eventual proposal.)

Lost in his thoughts already, Saito only remembered Chizuru and her protests when she waved a hand in front of his face. “See,” she remarked, setting a jug of water down before him. Whenever his focus was suffering, Chizuru was usually the reason he couldn’t focus, yet now he couldn’t even focus on  _her_. “You didn’t even hear me, so what makes you think you could concentrate on work? At least go back to bed and see how you feel in a few more hours.”

“I have that meeting…” Saito trailed off with a weak cough as the words tickled his throat, almost as though his body was laughing at the very idea. Taking a sip from the water Chizuru gave him, he found it cold and soothing, but knew all too well that relieving the symptoms does not cure the cause. (Being a fury had taught him that much.)

“Then I’ll answer for you and tell them you’re unwell,” insisted Chizuru, putting her hands on her hips resolutely. “You’ve always taken care of me, so let me take care of you for once.  _Please_ , Saito-san,” she added, scattering his thoughts effortlessly with a persuasive smile almost too brilliant for his tired eyes to take in. “I promise I know how. I’m a doctor’s daughter, after all.”

Saito could only look at her, his thoughts drifting away in all directions without the goal of working to hold them together, and Chizuru—understanding that he would not argue further—turned around to make sure the food wasn’t burning. Although it had seemed all-important mere seconds ago, his job fled Saito’s consciousness completely as he gazed at the woman before him. Chizuru, capable of changing his mind and removing his doubts with a touch lighter than the wind, was without a doubt the most beautiful thing he had ever seen.

Of course, Saito had known that for some time—more than two years now—but only now, in the haze of his increasingly more jumbled thoughts, did that fact seem so important. In that moment, all he could think about was marrying her; in fact, in his still-sleepy mind, their wedding seemed more like a faraway memory than a fantasy. She was practically his wife already, as their nosy neighbor had pointed out to him several times before.

“Will you… stay with me?”

The words came tumbling out unbidden, and Saito’s heart seemed to shudder to a halt, his breath catching as he prayed with all his might that Chizuru had not heard him over the clicks and crackles of her cooking. He had not intended to propose to her so early, especially not in such an unattractive condition. Could he have possibly chosen a time at which he would be  _less_  likely to be accepted…?

Thankfully, Chizuru took his words much more literally than they had been intended, accepting the sentiment in stride. “If you like,” she responded, tossing a reassuring smile over her shoulder, and Saito heaved a congested sigh of relief. “You did stay with me all through the night of my illness, after all. It’s only fair that I return the favor.” She pointed at Saito’s room with a wooden spoon, meek yet authoritative in that  _way_  of hers. “Now, Saito-san, please go back to bed. I’ll be in with some mending to keep you company, as soon as this is done.”

There was nothing else to be done. Obediently, Saito took the jug of water got to his feet, swaying in place for more reasons than one. Everything about Chizuru was dizzying, but it took removing all the layers of work and duty for him to realize the extent. Yes; he must marry her as soon as possible if he was to be truly happy.

“Y-Yukimura,” began Saito, swallowing her given name as he reached his door. The time for that would come, and hopefully soon; as of now, he had only ever said it in his dreams, and  _those_  were not something anyone needed to know about. Especially Chizuru. “Thank you. For everything.”

Chizuru only smiled again, her expression more soft and radiant still, and Saito’s heart skipped a beat as their eyes met. “Of course, Saito-san,” she murmured, and the sympathetic affection in her voice could not be mistaken even in his state. “I’ll always be by your side.”

As he tottered back to his room, trying not to look too pleased, Saito knew then that there was nothing to fear… and perhaps Chizuru had understood his original question after all. Always meant always—in sickness  _and_ in health.


	42. "How do you politely tell a guy…"

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Kazama's route: Chizuru and Sen bromance. Rated T.

“Chizuru-chan,” greeted Sen, taking both her hands briefly, and mustered what she hoped was an encouraging smile. She couldn’t deny that she was pleased to see her friend out on patrol again; from what she had heard, Kazama had redoubled his efforts to seize her from the Shinsengumi lately. That, in fact, was what worried her so greatly now.

(Sen had looked into  _why_ , of course, but Shiranui was terribly unhelpful. “Beats me,” he’d said, shrugging, but the glint in his eyes told her otherwise. “If I had to guess, I’d say it’s because he thinks he actually has a chance now. No idea  _why_ , though.”)

“Osen-chan,” returned Chizuru, looking somewhat at a loss for what to say. Upon closer examination, she appeared distinctly haggard compared to her usual cheerful self. Her skin was pale, and there were faint dark circles under her eyes, as though she had not slept well lately. That, combined with Sen’s knowledge of Kazama’s newly strengthened obsession, did not bode well.

“You wanted to see me?” prompted Sen, when Chizuru did not continue.

Chizuru nodded hesitantly. “Yes,” she said, her voice quiet and tentative. “It’s Kazama-san. He won’t leave me alone—more than usual, I mean—and… I don’t know what to do anymore.” She swallowed. “I’m worried for the Shinsengumi. If they found him talking to me, they’d fight him, and he visits so often now that I don’t think they’d be able to hold him off for long.”

Sen resists the urge to reprimand Chizuru for worrying more about the Shinsengumi than herself; now is not the time for nitpicking. “Do you know why?”

To her surprise, Chizuru nodded again, although her body language seemed almost guilty. Sen peered closely at her expression, searching for the reason. She hadn’t been leading Kazama on in some way, had she? Sen knew full well that his presence in her life was hardly desired; she could have no reason to imply otherwise…

As though sensing the direction of Sen’s thoughts, Chizuru colored slightly and cleared her throat. “W-well, it’s just…” She paused awkwardly, gathering her thoughts. “Do you remember when I went to the Sumi dressed as a geisha…?”

Sen snapped into high alert. “Yes,” she said, somewhat more tersely than usual. “Did something happen?”

Chizuru inclined her head. “I didn’t really want to think about it anymore,” she said, “so I didn’t say anything. I didn’t know  _how_. But…” She trailed off, deliberating, and took a deep breath. When she looked up again, she met Sen’s eyes, concern mingling with newfound determination: “How do you politely tell someone that you only kissed them so they would sh—shut up?”


	43. Kiss

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Unspecified route: vaguely suggestive HaraShira. Rated T.

It all started when Shiranui’s elbow collided with Harada’s face.

Maybe it was an accident, and maybe it wasn’t, but one way or the other, Shiranui was going to  _pay_. Harada’s face was no stranger to unexpected impacts, but he was usually able to shrug them off just fine. Thing was, after a day like he’d had, he wasn’t feeling as resilient as usual. In fact, he wasn’t  _feeling_ much of anything, anymore.

Shiranui didn’t seem to be trying to pick a fight, since Harada didn’t hear any taunts, so assessing the damage took priority over getting even. Slowly, Harada wiped his mouth, then ran his tongue along his teeth. That was definitely blood he was tasting, but at least he still  _had_ teeth. Given that Shiranui was possessed of demonic strength, that was a pleasant surprise.

Where’d he get off to, anyway? Cheek beginning to throb painfully—that lip would probably start getting fat  _real_ quick—Harada glanced around impatiently. Ordinarily, Shiranui never would’ve been able to land a hit that high up, since he was a few inches shorter than Harada, but he’d been getting up to go… somewhere. Outside? Already? Shit, was he seriously skipping out on the check?

Figures. The one time Harada ever agreed to have a drink with Shiranui, and the bastard ran out on him. Getting to his feet in a hurry, and making sure  _not_ to elbow his neighbor in the same way he’d just been hurt, Harada stormed outside. It wasn’t like Shiranui to miss the chance for a fight.

To his immense surprise, he discovered Shiranui staring up at the sky just outside. In the dark, Harada couldn’t see his expression, and his tone of voice was equally as inscrutable: “Hey,” he said, not turning to face him, and Harada curled his fingers into fists. “I thought you’d follow me.”

“Yeah,” said Harada, approaching, and came to a halt beside Shiranui. He didn’t seem interested in fighting, so there was plenty of time to prepare: he’d better make his first punch a good one. Raising his fingers to feel along his swelling lip, Harada winced at his increased sensitivity. Yeah, that wasn’t going to look too good once he got back into the light. He’d better call it a night as soon as he forced Shiranui to settle the tab.

Glancing sideways to assess his chances, Harada realized that Shiranui appeared perfectly unconcerned with his condition, and anger rose within him like the dragon of Shiranui’s tattoo. Acting on his previously suppressed impulse, Harada twisted sideways, throwing all his weight into his fist so that it slammed into the bridge of Shiranui’s nose at full force.

It was the only real hit he’d ever managed to land on a demon, and Harada was proud of himself for it. It was a solid strike, too; he could hear the bone crack. Shiranui yelped, raising his hands defensively to hold his nose in place as it healed with an odd crackling sound. (Damn, it’d be nice to have demon healing right about now. Swollen lips weren’t anything to scoff at.)

Assuming a defensive position, Harada braced himself for Shiranui to complain about how unsportsmanlike that was, or otherwise continue their fight and put on a show that would get them thrown out of Shimabara—but instead, his reaction was as far out of the blue as everything else he’d ever said: “You kissed your knuckles,” gasped Shiranui. “I saw you.”

Harada frowned, caught completely off-guard, before he realized what Shiranui was implying. “I was  _wiping my_   _mouth_ ,” hissed Harada. “Because you elbowed me in the fucking face.” And that shit  _hurt_ , he added privately to himself. Not that he’d ever admit as much to the man who did it.

“Did I?” returned Shiranui, giving his nose a couple experimental tweaks before deciding it was straight, and wiped the blood from his face with an unexpected grin. (Harada would have thought he’d be a little angrier about someone spilling his precious demon blood, but maybe not all demons were as weird about that as Kazama?) “Sorry, not sorry. Didn’t even notice.”

“You  _didn’t notice_?” Bull-fucking-shit. He  _must_  have noticed. He’d been messing with him all night in less-than-subtle ways. Elbowing him accidentally-on-purpose was right in line with what he’d already been doing.

“I had other things to think about,” said Shiranui, shrugging, and turned toward Harada. Oddly, he looked completely in his element with a smear of blood still on his face. “Still do, actually, only you just gave me a reason to follow through. After all, I gotta get back at you for mussing up my face.”

“If anything, we’re  _even_ ,” snapped Harada, patience completely depleted. “You mussed up mine fir—!”

Shiranui moved so fast Harada didn’t even have time to react, seizing his lapels and pulling him into a swift, shallow, and painful… kiss? What the actual  _fuck_. Harada’s mind went blank for a second out of shock and disgust—albeit less of the latter than he expected—and he couldn’t even muster the strength to shove him away.

…Until Shiranui’s hands entered his hakama, anyway. That was when Harada’s automatic defenses activated, but they still kicked in a second too late. As gracefully as if they were dancing, Shiranui withdrew his hands and stepped back, standing a safe distance away to regard his confusion with an amused smirk and the hint of a crimson blush.

Clenching his fists as he felt himself flush too, Harada took a step forward in preparation to beat the shit out of Shiranui… when a coin fell through the leg of his hakama. Distracted by the clink, Harada looked down, registering for the first time the extremely uncomfortable sensation of metal coins jangling in his fundoshi. Had Shiranui seriously… just…?

Harada’s mind short-circuited, trying to process too many things all at once. The elbow in his face, the kiss, the hands, the sake pounding through his head… how was he supposed to deal with this? Weren’t demons hard enough to handle already?!

“That should be enough to cover both our tabs,” said Shiranui, eyes sparkling in the lantern-light. “I’d meant to stay a little longer, but I guess I got too clumsy and missed my chance. Oops.” He flashed the dumbfounded Harada another shit-eating grin, swaggering toward the gate. “I’ll see you around sometime, Harada. Maybe then we can finish what we started.”

Harada opened his mouth to ask whether he means the sake, the fistfight, or the kiss—but Shiranui only tossed him a last, roguish wink, and vanished on the spot.


	44. the reason

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hijikata's route: implied HijiChi. Rated T. Partly based on a true story.

“Why did you do it?”

Only after the words fall from Chizuru’s lips does she realize the gravity of her mistake. Having returned to Hijikata’s side more than a week ago, and not having mentioned their separation before now, this question must seem out of the cold Ezo blue. Immediately sensible of her insolence, she braces herself for a sharp rebuke. Even if he has grown warmer since his arrival in this frozen land, what right has she to ask such a personal question out of nowhere?

These feelings may have been bubbling up inside Chizuru ever since Hijikata left her behind, but he’s said once before that he has many other things to worry about besides her—and the quality of the silence doesn’t assuage her worries. Even though Hijikata does not look up from his work, she can tell from the heaviness of the air between them that he understands exactly what she is asking. Why did he…  _how could_  he… abandon her like that?

For a long time, Chizuru is afraid that she will never receive a response. Accidental as her question may have been, an answer now feels necessary. No matter how much she trusts Hijikata—or  _wants_ to trust Hijikata—she can never be truly confident that he will never hurt her like that again until she hears his reasoning from his own lips. All the guesswork in this frozen world cannot provide the same comfort.

But then Hijikata sighs and speaks, his voice barely above a breath: “Because I’m selfish.”

Chizuru doesn’t recognize that her eyes have welled up until the first tear falls. Startled, she stares at the darker splotch on her glove, joined by more and more splashes of saltwater. Hijikata’s response is not a real answer, but she can hear the regret in his tone, the guilt. She could never bring herself to blame him for an instant, but to know he understands what the nature of their parting did to her—that he has accepted culpability of his own free will—

There is a scraping noise as Hijikata pushes his chair back, but Chizuru barely has time to look up before his arms are around her for the second time. At his gentle touch, she freezes, barely comprehending her own emotions. Even if Hijikata’s answer has more than redeemed him in her eyes, it strikes her as strange to cry into the coat of a man so intimately intertwined with the cause of her grief.

“Here, look at me,” murmurs Hijikata, tilting her chin up, but it takes her some time before she can meet his eyes. “You’ve always had a pretty face, but… I think it’s better when you smile.”

Chizuru’s mouth half tugs up automatically at his unexpected praise, and she bows her head again, tears slowly subsiding even without any conscious effort. Hijikata’s very presence, his oddly sweet scent, is bewildering—uplifting—disruptive to her sense of sadness. Indeed, the unexpected joy of relief is already beginning to displace her myriad anxieties. The current situation may be precarious and unpredictable, but going forward, she can at least be sure of Hijikata’s quiet depth of caring.

“I—I don’t understand,” manages Chizuru, sniffling self-consciously, and dares to look up at him. Behind his usual stoic veil, his countenance is full of such soft concern. “How you can see me at—at close to my worst a-and… still point out beauty like that?”

Hijikata smiles, maybe a little sadly, and raises his hand to brush a stray lock of hair out of her face. “I don’t know,” he says. “I may be good at reading other people, but I can’t read myself as well.” He crosses his arms, looking away to stare at the wall—perhaps a little sheepish. “But since you’re going to stay with me now…  _you_  might be able to teach me a thing or two.”

“I… I’ll do my best, Hijikata-san,” says Chizuru, bowing deeply, and the last of her tears falls to the floor.


	45. Haunt Me – Shiranui/Takasugi

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Harada's route: TakaShira angst. Rated T. Originally requested by hakuyamazakisensei.

Shiranui may not believe in ghosts, but the wind feels… different… now that  _he’s_  gone.

Maybe it’s just the night breathing all around him, chilly in the beginnings of fall, but the shiver that runs through him has nothing to do with the cold. Something is watching him, and it isn’t just the moon and stars. Glancing around the gravestones, Shiranui rests his hand instinctively on his pistol. He’s always been more sensitive to shit like this than he thought. It’s times like these he wishes, against his better judgment, that he wasn’t a demon.

The thought is an intrusive one. Shiranui bites his tongue until he tastes blood—Takasugi’s blood. Closing his eyes, he sees his lover’s teeth bared in a smile or a grimace; feels his tongue, still so soft even in sickness. After all, a demon has little to fear from human illness, or perhaps he just didn’t care anymore. Their kisses were more desperate in the last days before Takasugi barricaded himself in his room, refused to fight anymore. The bastard even sent Shiranui on some chickenshit mission just to keep him away from his deathbed.

Shiranui swallows, throat aching sharply, but forces himself to relax. As he opens his eyes, trying to find himself again, the wind turns a little warmer and wraps around him like an ethereal embrace. Sensing that familiar presence, Shiranui gives a small laugh… or perhaps a sob. It seems he’s found Takasugi instead, just like the girl demon said he might.

“I’m home, Shinsaku,” whispers Shiranui, crouching to rest his hand on the ground separating them, and lets the first tear fall.


	46. Quiet Me – Saito/Chizuru

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Post-Saito's route: SaiChi hurt/comfort.

Chizuru means to talk to him about it, but instead, she just cries.

_Kazama killed you, Saito-san._

It’s been less than a week; the days have started blurring together. The first few nights after Saito’s surrender to the Imperial forces, the hours were full of such a flurry of activity and emotion—relief and grief in equal measure—that Chizuru was too exhausted even to dream. But now that she has recovered, the nightmares set in.

_Father killed Heisuke-kun._

Everything that could have been, a terrible premonition, attacks her all at once. It comes as a haze of indistinct panic, a torrential wave of horror that pins her in place with icy claws of fire. She gasps, half a sob, and Saito stirs, rolls over to face her. Ever since their departure from Aizu Castle, he has rarely been found more than a few feet away from her, a quiet pillar of strength and support.

_Shiranui killed Harada-san and Nagakura-san._

Wordlessly, Saito moves closer to wrap his arms around Chizuru after only the briefest of hesitations, enveloping her in warmth. Still shivering violently in half-memories, she breathes in his comforting scent as her tears soak into the fabric of his kosode. There is no room for any self-consciousness among her overwhelming exhaustion.

_And Amagiri-san… killed **me.**_

“Hush now,” murmurs Saito, cradling Chizuru in his arms, and her body relaxes at his gentle words as surely as if they had been delivered as a command. There is no need to speak of her residual fear; he knows. “You’re here. I’m here with you. And nothing can harm us now.”


	47. Shag Me – Hijikata/Chizuru

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hijikata's route: HijiChi pining. Rated E.

Idle hands are the Demon’s playthings.

It’s not because of lack of work to do. It’s just that sometimes, Hijikata has to collect his thoughts. It’s mostly because his fingers are cramping up after so much writing. But also, it’s because his page would want him to take a br—

Shit. No. He’s been trying not to think about  _her_.

But even as he tries to wipe Chizuru from his thoughts, she gives him her sweetest smile in his mind’s eye, and he can’t help but let her stay. Just a little longer, he tells himself, and leans back in his seat. She may have been just a kid when he first met her, but she’d blossomed into a fine young woman before his very eyes. He just hadn’t ever taken much notice, because she hadn’t ever been allowed to dress the part. ( _Hijikata_ hadn’t allowed her to dress the part.)

Giving a long sigh as the memory of her mission in Shimabara flits across his mind like so many butterflies, Hijikata lets his hand slip from the edge of the Western desk, jumping as it lands in his lap. Just a little too close to home, as it were. He’s as much a man as anyone else here, and it’s been… quite some time. After all, he’s unofficially forsworn female company for the rest of his days in an effort to keep his mind on his work.

But gods  _damn_ , does Chizuru make it hard.

Letting out an indistinct growl as his thoughts settle into a rut in the gutter, Hijikata succumbs to an impulse to brush his hands along the front of his pants. Yeah, he’s got an increased sensitivity to touch already. Damn it; why now? Desire has never felt so inconvenient before. He has no right to think of anyone in such a way, especially not Chizuru.

One more hesitation, and then— _fuck it_. Freeing himself, Hijikata clears his mind, pushes up his sleeves, and sets to work. There’s no harm in letting his body have what it wants as long as he doesn’t use it as an excuse to think about  _her_. But gods, he hasn’t felt like doing this since he came to Ezo. Does he even know what makes himself tick anymore…?

A wooden creak as he leans back in his seat, trying to find his rhythm. Legs apart, feet casual. He slouches, sinking slowly, slipping until he makes his periodic readjustments. As he works, he can feel the flush across his cheeks, to the ears, the slight sweat forming. Taking a moment to regulate his breathing, he loosens his cravat. (Could come in handy later.)

As he settles back in again, Hijikata’s burning eyes won’t stay shut, but they are unseeing; his mind is elsewhere. His thoughts seem obscured by a veil of fog, a pleasant haze, and any awareness of the potential for intrusion is dim. First and foremost comes the feeling. So he soaks in the sensations alone, no imagery to help him.

But, despite all efforts to keep his thoughts clean and free of any external influence, the nothingness behind his eyes takes shape as dreams he cannot remember, the recollection of past experiences. Shimabara. Yoshiwara. The girl from the kimono shop.

…Chizuru. Of course it’s Chizuru.

As soon as Hijikata’s fevered mind recognizes her, his body reacts accordingly, demanding a faster pace, heart galloping. His hips stir in automatic half-thrusts, his muscles sore and tired already. As he fast approaches the end, his breaths come in pants. Lightheaded now, he is so mesmerized by the pulsations behind his eyes that he almost forgets to tear off his cravat and cover himself again. Anything to minimize the damage.

And then— _and then_ —half a cough, a strangled vocalization, a name he will not say, and it’s over.

It takes a moment for the blood to stop roaring in his ears, and another for him to stop feeling so dizzy, but when he does, he feels almost… balanced. Still catching his breath as he assesses his situation, Hijikata cracks his knuckles, fingers tremulous (and no less cramped than before). Carefully folding up his cravat with a grimace of lingering disgust, he drops it in one of his empty desk drawers, to be removed by himself tonight and  _thoroughly_  scrubbed.

It’s easier than he thinks to turn his mind back to his work again, as though the line of thinking has been exhausted alongside his body: his desire has been satisfied. As his mind clears, Hijikata feels only the vaguest sense of unrest. Even without spending any nights with Chizuru, just the thought of the girl—woman— _herself_ —was enough to start him off.

He’s in deeper than he thought.

 _Fuck_.


	48. Enamor Me – Okita/Chizuru

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Post-Okita's route: OkiChi. Rated T. Originally requested by soujthings.

In retrospect, sake may not have been the best idea.

Chizuru only brought it home so they could at least drink from the same cup at their wedding ceremony, even if there was no one to oversee it. But, in the interests of keeping up his health, Souji could only have the one sip that symbolized their union.

 _You can drink my share_ , he said, sounding a little wistful. And Chizuru did so, obeying an impulse she couldn’t name. Souji looked a little surprised as she drained the rest of their shared cup… but then he smiled, and said:  _this should be fun._

After that, the night was something of a blur. All Chizuru remembers is the feeling of being so full of love she was ready to burst. And why shouldn’t Souji know exactly how great he was? She’d have climbed up on the roof and shouted her admiration to the moon if Souji let her.

And his lips never tasted so sweet. Maybe it was just the burning bitterness of the sake, but Chizuru felt that she had to kiss him almost as often as he drew breath. Then maybe he’d understand how dear he was to her, as necessary as the air all around them.

The last thing she remembers is one more string of kisses, horizontal now, his persistent interruptions of her plea to take off her clothes. The world feels so hot and fuzzy, and she’s never been more ready to give him everything she has. How could he be so heartless as to refuse her? (Is she that undesirable…?)

And after that—nothing.

All these memories manifest in Chizuru’s mind only slowly, throbbing painfully with her sluggish heartbeat. With the restoration of her rational mind, she’s never been so glad that Souji insisted she drink so much water.

It’s been some time since her fury blood has acted up, but the sunlight hurts again, and her body feels heavier than usual. Letting out a faint moan, Chizuru buries her face in Souji’s chest. Like her, he’s still wearing his clothes from yesterday; she must have passed out on him, so that he couldn’t get up and change.

Souji rests his hand on her back, thankfully not applying too much pressure, and Chizuru jumps. How long has he lain awake, half under her, permitting her to doze beside him…? “Good morning, Chizuru,” he says quietly, his tone one of gentle amusement. “What were you thinking?”

Chizuru swallows dryly. “I just wanted to do something nice for you,” she mumbles, once her tongue works. “To… have a  _real_  wedding. To go with your flower crown.”

“You really didn’t have to try that hard,” laughs Souji, gathering Chizuru closer, and presses a kiss to the top of her head. “You’re nice enough on your own, you know.” How can he say such a thing? In trying to prove to Souji how much he meant to her, she made it impossible for them to consummate their union.

“But… I ruined our wedding night,” protests Chizuru feebly.

She can hear Souji’s smile, the sound of his lips parting to expose teeth. “What’s so special about a wedding night?” he chuckles, weaving his fingers in her hair. “Now that we’re married, we have all the time in the world.” Blearily incredulous, Chizuru tilts her head back to look up at Souji, taking in his grin. “And  _that_  means I can take my revenge whenever I want.”


	49. Shag Me – Heisuke/Chizuru

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Post-Heisuke's route: HeiChi. Rated E.

Chizuru used to be apprehensive about living in the middle of nowhere, but she’s never been more glad to be out of earshot of any neighbors than when she finds herself screaming.

She’s always…  _enjoyed_  herself… with Heisuke, but never quite like this. Making love has always been a simple thing, learning one another’s patterns, taking turns on top, each trying to outdo the other in terms of how much pleasure they can deliver.

And Chizuru likes to think she’s improving at what she does. At least, judging by the way Heisuke’s eyes glaze over and roll back, and the flush across his face, and most particularly the little  _noises_ he makes in the back of his throat—softer and lower than his speaking voice, his vocalizations nestled in the rhythm she creates—she must be.

But no matter how good she may be, she is  _clearly_  not as good as Heisuke has gotten. By some fortunate coincidence as they shift in place, their bodies align again like stars. The next of his thrusts brushes against something deep inside her, sending an electric jolt through her body, and she cries out instinctively.

“Chizuru!” exclaims Heisuke, shuddering to an immediate halt. His face is rosy from exertion, a faint sheen of sweat on his moonlit shoulders, but his countenance is full of gentle concern. “Are you all right? Did I hurt you?”

She hesitates, but shakes her head. The feeling was an overwhelming shock, but she couldn’t say whether it was  _pain_. “Do it again.”

Keeping a close eye on her expression, he moves more gradually this time, eliciting another shiver. Not enough. Chizuru narrows her eyes, arching her hips to chase the feeling, but lies back again. She doesn’t want to disrupt their positioning too much. “F-faster,” she manages. “Like before.”

Taking a deep breath, Heisuke speeds up again, and Chizuru yelps… but doesn’t have much of a chance to get used to her sensitivity, because he hesitates as soon as he hears her voice.

Scowling, Chizuru grasps Heisuke’s shoulder, digging her fingernails into his skin. As he spasms involuntarily, his breath catches, then squeaks past in a brief moan. “Stop  _stopping_!” she commands, more authoritative than usual—craving completion. They’re both close enough that this could be the end, if he only lets it happen.

When Heisuke does nothing, Chizuru opens her mouth again to tell him she’s fine, and that she appreciates his concern… but, as he suddenly lurches back into motion again, the breath is pushed from her lungs in senseless vocalizations of inarticulable ecstasy. Heisuke must see it, too, in the moments before he squeezes his eyes shut and picks up the pace.

How is Chizuru to bear such euphoria? The roar of her blood drowns out her voice, but she is certain she must be deafening her husband. All attempts to control herself fail as her hips buck up against Heisuke’s, and then her trembling lips are covered by his, muffling her voice as the rapids carry her away—more powerful yet than any ripples or waves he’s triggered before.

“You’re crying,” murmurs Heisuke, wiping her tears away with his thumb. “Are you okay?”

“Better than okay,” mumbles Chizuru, dimly surprised that her tongue can form words at all. “You’re… so good to me, Heisuke.” At her reassurance, he gives her a radiant and relieved grin, then finally rolls off her to cool down with a contented sigh.

Still, after Chizuru’s cries, the night seems altogether too silent. Perhaps she has frightened away all the birds and insects that might ordinarily be humming the melody of summer, and deprived them of their lullaby. (As she regains control of herself and her thoughts, she has to struggle not to feel ashamed of herself and her irrepressible enthusiasm, so like her husband’s.)

But then there is Heisuke’s voice, quiet, hoarse, somewhere between sheepish and excited: “Wanna do it again?”

Chizuru’s only response is to smile, roll over, and kiss him.


	50. "You kept muttering 'why'…"

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Unspecified route: Kazama and Amagiri bromance. Rated T.

Last night had not been the first time Amagiri had seen Kazama drunk. Nor had it been the first time he had nursed him back to health during a hangover. But it  _had_  been the first time Kazama had not exceeded his limits on purpose.

“Amagiri,” mumbled Kazama, stirring in his futon, and Amagiri glanced up from his book to attend his ally. Frankly, he looked awful; his skin was pale and clammy, his hair disheveled, and his movements seemed weak as a human’s. “What  _happened_?”

“Unfortunately, I don’t know,” said Amagiri, kneeling by Kazama’s side with a hand towel, soaking in a basin of cold water. “I found you lying on the floor, staring at the ceiling. You kept muttering ‘why’ in various inflections.”

Kazama frowned, opening his eyes, and squinted as the sunlight hit his eyes. As he grasped weakly for the washcloth, Amagiri laid it across his sensitive eyes. He knew better than to pry, but this doubtless had something to do with trying and failing to capture the Yukimura girl.  _Again_. He insisted he was leaving her with the Shinsengumi on purpose, but…

“Amagiri,” said Kazama once more, making an effort at adopting his usual authoritative tone, and Amagiri decided to pretend it is effective. It was always better to humor Kazama whenever he got himself into situations like this. “What are you thinking?”

“I am merely wondering how much you had to drink,” said Amagiri quietly. “I know how high your tolerance is.”

“I… lost track,” said Kazama, and his voice lowers still further as he continues. (He no longer seems to be addressing Amagiri.) “Just like I lose track of everything. Those fakes. Chizuru. Even my mind…”

“Go back to sleep, Kazama,” said Amagiri, daring to cut him off. He has learned by now that it is preferable to be scolded for interrupting than to be present for his dramatic monologues. Besides, where Kazama was concerned, it was almost always better not to know his inner workings.

But, to Amagiri’s muted astonishment, Kazama did not raise any objections. He simply let out a long breath, as if whatever heart he had was truly broken, and—for once in his life—obeyed.


	51. "Enough talk of my burning loins."

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Kazama's route: Kazama and Shiranui rivalry. Mentioned KazaChi. Rated T.

_But enough talk of my burning loins,_  Kazama had said.  _How was_ your _day?_

It was the only time Chizuru dared lift a hand against him. And the only time Kazama thought he might have deserved it. Sake always made his tongue clumsy, and he was beginning to get impatient with Chizuru’s stubborn refusal to reciprocate his frustrated affections.

But drunken mistakes every now and then couldn’t be helped, really. After all, trying to track down some way of meeting up with the Shinsengumi, Kazama had more than enough reason to drink. Including, but not limited to, Shiranui’s unexpected company the next day.

At least he wasn’t hungover this time, he thought, grasping for some kind of silver lining. Shiranui was practically a hangover incarnate already, especially now that Kazama had to explain why exactly Chizuru refused to fetch him like she usually did for visitors. They hadn’t even spoken since yesterday.

“At least tell me you didn’t describe yourself as ‘hot and bothered’,” said Shiranui, his voice edged with a sigh, and Kazama froze as he hit the nail on the head. (Granted, he hadn’t been able to get all the words out before Chizuru had slapped him, but…)

“What’s wrong with that?”

Shiranui looked him up and down as if trying to decide whether he was serious, then shook his head in exasperated resignation. Even his ponytail seemed less bouncy than usual. “One, it’s a cliché, and any woman worth having likes a man’s  _own_  words better,” he said. “And two—more importantly—telling the demon girl how much you want her only works if she wants you too.”

“Well, how  _else_  am I supposed to let her know?” demanded Kazama, more and more irritable. He should have known better than to think, even for a second, that Shiranui wouldn’t rub salt in his wounds. Thankfully, an idea distracts him before he can dwell on the sting. He’d always heard actions spoke louder than words. Maybe if he  _showed_  Chizuru how he felt, instead…

“There’s only one way that comes to mind,” said Shiranui, looking Kazama dead in the eye… but despite his serious tone, the corner of his mouth twitched as though he might burst out laughing any second. “Fucking  _don’t_.”


	52. Tell Me – Kazama & Chizuru

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Kazama's route: ambiguous KazaChi. Rated T. Requested by han-pan.

****“Tell you… _what_ , Kazama… san?”

Clutching her broom, Chizuru eyes Kazama carefully, trying to calm her racing heart. He has a habit of turning up at the most  _inconvenient_  times. She’s only trying to do her chores, and she’s made it as clear as possible that she takes no pleasure in his company. Why does he insist on interrupting her so often?

“How you feel about me.”

Chizuru eyes Kazama carefully. He’s serious, isn’t he? And he’s smiling slightly in an almost sinister way that suggests that he’s expecting her to say something specific, but she can’t imagine how he thinks this conversation is going to go. Does he want her to shoot him down, or sing his praises…?

Well, either way, she has to tell him  _something_. Taking a deep breath, Chizuru makes a solid effort to look Kazama in the eye. “I don’t trust you,” she says, as firmly as she can. “And… I don’t like you. Or what you’ve been doing to the Shinsengumi.”

To her astonishment, Kazama tilts his head and chuckles. “I know,” he tells her. “I simply wanted to hear you say it for once, instead of merely being glared at every time we meet.” He turns his back on her, speaking over his shoulder. “A pureblooded demon should be more honest.”

Sudden anger twists Chizuru’s gut, and her grip on the broomstick tightens. She’s been perfectly honest with him from the beginning, and besides—“I’m one of  _them_!” she shouts, taking a few steps forward.

But, his inscrutable mission accomplished, Kazama has already vanished.


	53. Setting the Record Straight

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Unspecified route: ambiguous NagaChi and HaraChi. Rated T.

“Say, Chizuru-chan,” said a voice. “Do you have a moment?”

Startled, Chizuru jerked her head up from her stitching to find Nagakura standing in the open doorway. “Oh, Nagakura-san,” she greeted, dipping her head in something of a bow. Not too long ago, she would have thrown her sewing aside and scrambled to her feet, but she’s learned by now that most of the captains prefer that she not trouble herself. “Can I help you with anything?”

“Yeah, actually,” said Nagakura, but he seemed so uncertain that Chizuru hesitated rather than make even one more stitch. It was unusual for him to seek her out in the first place. “There’s something… I have to tell you.”

Chizuru bit her lip. This sounded serious. “Do you want to come in?”

But as soon as she made the offer, Nagakura shook his head wildly, holding out his hands as if in a gesture of surrender. “No!” he exclaimed. “No. No, I think this is close enough. I just thought you should know…” He cleared his throat, looking away, and Chizuru blinked a few times, increasingly more anxious. Was Nagakura feeling all right…?

There was a long enough silence that Chizuru went back to her stitching, but no sooner than she did so, than Nagakura spoke again, his voice high-pitched from strain: “You, uh,” he began, but faltered and coughed, looking away as the color rose inexplicably to his face, and his voice became a barely intelligible mumble. “You know you’re…  _really_  c-cute, right?”

Chizuru’s brain froze, but her body kept moving, and the needle stabbed into her finger. She let out a small cry of surprise and pain, dropping her sewing and sticking her finger in her mouth to keep from getting blood on the fabric.  _Cute_? There was no way she hadn’t misheard him…

“Oy, Shinpachi, have you seen…” began Harada’s voice, and Chizuru glanced up to find that he had appeared beside the horrorstruck Nagakura. Though he wore a confused frown at first, it quickly shifted into an expression of alarm, and he breezed through the door to kneel next to Chizuru.

“What’s going on here?” asked Harada, looking between the two of them. “Are you all right, Chizuru?” His tone was one of gentle concern, and she nodded, but tensed as Harada rested his hand on her shoulder. She wasn’t used to this kind of proximity. “Is this bastard harassing you?”

She shook her head, feeling the wound close, and removed her finger tentatively from her mouth. However, she did not get the chance to respond. “Wh-why would you think that?!” exclaimed Nagakura, reddening again. “I just stopped by to say hi, that’s all! Right, Chizuru?”

Chizuru hesitated, but nodded. So she’d misheard him after all. “There’s a reason you’re not in the Watch, Shinpachi,” said Harada, shaking his head with a short sigh. “You can’t tell a lie to save your life.” He focused on Chizuru’s face more intently. “You know you can talk to me, Chizuru. Did this idiot tell you something stupid?”

“You’re putting her on the spot,” protested Nagakura, shifting in place. “Come on, Sano, I just remembered I have to—”

“Oh,  _I’m_ putting her on the spot?” demanded Harada. “Whose fault is that?”

“Please don’t fight!” exclaimed Chizuru, and both their eyes snapped to her. She swallowed under their scrutiny, fidgeting with her hands. “It’s all a big misunderstanding. I… I think I just misheard something, that’s all, and…” Harada frowned more deeply as she trailed off, but then something seemed to click.

Raising his eyebrows, he looked Nagakura up and down, wearing a peculiar expression, somewhere between exasperation, amusement, and… respect? “You actually did it,” said Harada, amber eyes dancing, and Shinpachi crossed and uncrossed his arms uncomfortably. “Color me impressed. I didn’t think you had it in you.”

Nagakura chuckled nervously, ruffling his hair. “I have no idea what you’re talking about.”

Letting out a short breath, half a laugh, Harada patted Chizuru on the shoulder and rose. “Don’t worry about it, Chizuru,” he said, walking back to Nagakura’s side. “He was going on about how adorable you were the other night, so I told him he should man up and tell you so.” Harada grinned. “I didn’t think he’d take my words to heart.”

“Oh,  _I_ was going on,” growled Nagakura, elbowing Harada in a way that could have been friendlier. “I wasn’t the only one,  _Sano_. You were the one who brought up Chizuru-chan in the first place. ‘Oh, what a tragedy she can’t dress like a girl’!”

Chizuru could have fainted as Harada’s smile became slightly lopsided. “Yeah, I guess you have a point.”

“It’s no fun if you just admit it,” muttered Nagakura, slightly deflated.

“But it  _is_ a tragedy, isn’t it?” asked Harada, almost interrupting. “Chizuru’s already cute just dressed like a boy. Put her in a proper kimono, and it might be enough to bring the entire Shinsengumi to its kn—”

“Hey, hey, you’re scaring her, Sano,” cut in Nagakura, and Chizuru realized she had been staring at them. Dropping her gaze to her sewing, Chizuru tried with all her might to focus on her stitchery, but her head felt too light to concentrate, her heart pounded faster and faster, and her cheeks burned.

“Right,” said Harada, massaging the back of his neck sheepishly. “Got carried away.” There was an awkward silence, but Harada didn’t let it go on for long. “Maybe we’d better leave it there, then,” he said, wavering in place. “Sorry for interrupting…”

Chizuru cleared her throat faintly. “D-don’t worry about it,” she managed. “Thanks for stopping by?” Her voice sounded uncertain to her own ears, but she felt she had to thank them for their visit. After all, they didn’t  _have_  to go out of their way to pay her so many compliments.

“W-well, see you around, Chizuru-chan,” said Nagakura, giving an awkward wave. “It was nice chatting with you!” As he and Harada turned away, the latter offered no goodbye save a soft and sincere smile, and the warmth in Chizuru’s cheeks lingered long after they left.

Having been crossdressing for so long, it meant more than it should to realize that some of the captains still remembered she was a girl. Even if they’d just been saying it to make her feel better, they’d definitely succeeded.


	54. Compliments

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Pre-game: Saito humor. Rated T.

“If I may say so,” murmured a sensual voice, “you have beautiful eyes.”

Saito froze as his cup was refilled, the geisha’s presence lingering at his side, and his mind raced as he found himself at a loss for how to react. This was one of his first trips to Yoshiwara, and it was certainly the first time a woman had bent so near to address him. According to the rules of etiquette, he was sure thanks were in order, and perhaps reciprocation of some sort.

But what was he supposed to compliment? The finery of her kimono? The elegance of her hairdo? Her immaculately applied makeup? Come to think of it, ought he to compliment her at all? In an atmosphere like this, any such favorable response might have been taken as  _interest_. She was plainly trying to engage him in a more intimate exchange, and he had hardly any money to spare—and even less curiosity. Yes, a simple thank-you ought to suffice…

But by the time he turned back to the geisha, she had already moved on.


	55. "Wow. Last night."

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Unspecified route: Okita and Hijikata rivalry. Rated T.

“I was just wondering…” Chizuru lowered her eyes, touching her fingers together awkwardly. “This is a  _good_  thing, so don’t take this the wrong way, but… why don’t you drink as much as the other men, Okita-san?”

Okita laughed. “Believe it or not, I used to  _try_ ,” he said, crossing his arms as the bitter taste of sake washes over him. (He never did learn to enjoy the flavor.) “Except one day… I found my limit, thanks to Sano telling me I should know how much I can handle. And after that, I swore I’d never get that drunk again.”

Chizuru hesitated, and Okita watched her with some amusement. He had intended to leave it there and let her wonder, but she was trying so hard to bite her tongue, even though her thoughts were written plain across her face. Her inability to conceal anything she felt was frankly adorable, and she deserved a reward of some sort for providing him with such a nice distraction.

After letting Chizuru squirm in silent curiosity for a moment longer, Okita prompted her, “You want to know what happened?” And, after one more pause, Chizuru nodded without a word. She was afraid to say more, to express that she was curious about Okita’s history. That was fine by him. Harada had taught him plenty about the value of  _mystique_.

“Not much to it, really,” said Okita. “Can’t remember why, but we were all dressed up. Nothing  _too_ fancy, since we were broke, but I thought we looked almost as good as the ladies attending us. Thing is, as the night went on, and everyone let their hair down, I couldn’t see straight anymore.” Okita smiled. “I thought I’d take a leaf out of Sano’s book and try talking to one of the geisha.”

Chizuru wanted to ask what happened, but she waited. Patiently. Okita’s smile became a grin; he’d never felt so confident telling such an embarrassing story. Her interest was more gratifying than he thought, and she wouldn’t dare tell anyone else… and besides, as long as he made the moral into a jab at Hijikata’s somewhat effeminate beauty, he couldn’t go too far wrong. “So I walked up to this beautiful girl and tried to give her a compliment, but I—”

Okita stopped short as Hijikata’s laugh emanated from the open doorway, and both he and Chizuru turned to face him slowly. Heart thudding as he realized his audience, Okita realized that  _he_ had to be the one to tell the story, and spin it how he chose— _he_ had to be the one to reveal his weakness, on his own terms—or Chizuru wouldn’t take him seriously anymore. But begging was not in Okita’s vocabulary. Instead, he simply stared Hijikata down in the futile hopes that he would relent.

But in light of the Demon’s ruthless purple gaze, Okita recalled all the times he had gone out of his way to get on his nerves in the past month, and his heart sank. Hijikata seldom forgave, and never forgot, but Okita ordinarily covered his tracks so well that opportunities for vengeance were rare. Hijikata would be every bit as much of a fool as Okita thought if he passed up this chance to humiliate him, especially since he undoubtedly understood that this story was intended as an insult.

Making his peace with the death of his ego, Okita made a mental note never to let Chizuru bring down his guard again… but the sound of her desperately suppressed laughter as Hijikata finished his story for him—“I knew you were shit blasted when you called me your ‘sunflower queen’”— _almost_  made blushing worth his while.


	56. "Tonight is going to be a blast!"

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Unspecified route: implied HaraShira. Rated T.

Harada had just about had it with demons even  _before_ Shiranui ate all the konpeito and threatened to burn down the compound.

He’d gotten rid of him once today already, and hadn’t been expecting it. He’d shown up in the middle of town during Harada’s rounds, but Harada had ignored him to the best of his ability. Given the current political climate, people who were actively causing trouble—and people the Shinsengumi could actually handle, meaning, actual humans—needed to be prioritized.

Of course, Shiranui had promptly  _offered_ to cause trouble, if it meant being able to finish what they’d started at Hamaguri Gate.  _Maybe later_ , Harada had told him, glancing back over at his exhausted men. Truth be told, he was eager to finish their fight, too, but… it had been a long day already, and he had no wish to bite off more than he could chew. Thankfully, Shiranui had understood, and reluctantly stood down, promising they’d meet again.

But after Harada got home and wandered to the kitchen in search of a midnight snack, he found a certain obnoxious someone already there.

“Shiranui?!”

The minute Harada stepped inside, he stopped short. Shiranui was standing there in the dark, casual as you please, eating the last of their konpeito. “Yo,” he said, but did not give Harada the chance to ask what he was doing there. “It’s ‘later’ now, isn’t it?”

“You  _know_  what I meant.” Harada kept his grip on his spear, eyeing Shiranui suspiciously. “Are you here with Kazama?”

“Oh, that asshole?” asked Shiranui, scoffing, and crunches the last bit of sugar resentfully. (Harada winces at the noise.) “His idea of fun ain’t the same as mine. I came alone.” He grinned, finally setting down the empty bowl. “But tonight is going to be a fucking  _blast_. Even if I have to set off fireworks in your kitchen.”

“ _Don’t you dare_ ,” snarled Harada, clutching his weapon more tightly in preparation to use it. Shiranui may be joking, but Kyoto had already gone through more than enough fires in the last few years, and the latest one was the Choshu’s fault. Harada and Shiranui both enjoyed fighting, true, but Harada had never liked  _destruction_ , and that was still a bit of a sore spot. If Shiranui didn’t feel the same way, and meant to rub it in…

Shiranui snorted. “Well, if you’re feeling that serious, I guess causing an uproar like that won’t be worth my while after all.” As he approached jauntily, Harada kept his spear at the ready… and as Shiranui passed him by, he jabbed at his chest. However, he dodged the spearhead with such incredible agility that Harada lost sight of him for a second.

“Buzzkill,” said Shiranui, scowling, but something about the gesture seemed playfully sarcastic, or even apologetic. “Fighting’s no fun when you’re feeling this touchy. I’ll have to come back when you’re ready to show me a good time.” And with that, Shiranui vanished into the darkness with a laugh and a wink, leaving Harada alone in the darkness.


	57. "I was just holding this kitten up to my face…"

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Okita's route: mild OkiChi. Rated T.

Now, Chizuru finally understands why Okita doesn’t drink too often.

At least he wasn’t hungover, thought Chizuru, on her way to the common room with tea for the captains. After the events of last night, that might be too much. Not that anything really  _bad_ had happened, but… she was going to have a hard time meeting his eyes.

“Last night,” Okita was saying to Heisuke, “I was just holding this kitten up to my face for maybe ten minutes, telling it that it couldn’t be real.” Chizuru almost tripped over the threshold as she entered. Was that  _really_  what he believed had happened? How much had he  _had_ …?

“Where’d you find a kitten?” asked Heisuke, glancing around as if afraid of being overheard (Chizuru excepted as usual, of course). “Hijikata-san’s gonna be  _pissed_  if he finds out you’re keeping another cat.”

“I’m not,” said Okita. “I don’t know where she came from. I thought maybe you could tell me.” He glanced over at Chizuru, and she realized she’d stopped walking. “What are you looking at, Chizuru-chan?” he asked, crossing his arms. “Do you know something we don’t? Because if I find that kitten again, I’d like to take her in before Hijikata-san gets to her.” He smiled reminiscently. “She was pretty cute.”

Swallowing a squeak and trying to suppress her blush—surely he didn’t mean that—Chizuru paced forward to set down the tray of tea in its proper place before her hands could start trembling so much that she dropped it. Even after straightening up again, she kept her distance, ignoring Heisuke staring between the two of them in undisguised curiosity and a little bit of alarm. How was she supposed to say this…?

“O-Okita-san,” said Chizuru, fussing with the hem of her sleeve. “I don’t know how to tell you this, but… you weren’t talking to a kitten. You were talking to  _me_.”


	58. Night Terror

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Okita's route: bittersweet OkiChi. Rated T.

“Chizuru-chan.”

“O-Okita-san?” sobbed Chizuru, getting to her feet as his voice reached her from a great distance. Had he come back for her? Or did he intend to murder her, as he had threatened? It didn’t matter. Lurching into motion, Chizuru ran toward the source of his voice, but her vision seemed to be failing.

Still, her heart’s desire was to return to Okita’s side, even if he killed her for it. She had no choice but to keep running. “Chizuru-chan!” His voice sounded more urgent, now, and gloom swallowed the alleyway even as Chizuru charged through it. This must be an effect of Kaoru’s furies, she thought, but even her impressions of the world around her seemed to be becoming hazier.

As she kept running, more and more frantic as darkness enveloped her surroundings, her body weakened, her breath shortened, and her heart pounded so that it shook her entire being. She had to get out of here. But the alleys interlocked in a labyrinthine pattern, a dusky maze from which there could be no escape. It was only a matter of time before—

Something grabbed her, half smothering her, hauling her elsewhere, and her scream drowned out whatever it was they said. She struggled, more and more desperately, but the world went dark… and then, suddenly, brightened.

Early morning sunlight streamed into a still and peaceful room, and she found herself lying half under a futon. Okita’s, if the warm arms wrapped around her were any indication: for whatever reason, he had seen fit to try to bring her into his futon from where she had fallen asleep by his side. “How am I supposed to get any rest when you’re thrashing around like this?” he complained, and Chizuru jerked away for fear of overstepping her bounds. As he let go of her, she looked up at him tentatively to find a glimmer of concern in his green eyes.

“Okita-san,” she managed, her voice barely a breath, and sniffled self-consciously as reality washed back over her. This was not the same voice that had promised to kill her, and these were not the same eyes that had glared at her so ferociously.  _This_  Okita had taken those bullets for her as willingly as anyone could, and she had been ordered to accompany him to Edo and oversee his recovery. “I… I’m so sorry.” Disturbing his rest was a  _fine_  way to repay him for his sacrifice, she thought bitterly.

Okita looked her over. “Do you need to talk about it?”

Chizuru couldn’t help but stare at him, astonished at such an open invitation, especially at such a vulnerable time. But she could not meet his probing gaze for long. Her eyes were undoubtedly red, and her cheeks were still soaked with tears, but she had no business crying when she had suffered so little compared to him, even in such a nightmare. “I-it’s nothing,” muttered Chizuru, her voice hoarse. “Please don’t worry about me.”

“You’re a terrible liar, Chizuru-chan,” said Okita, but his voice was far more gentle than teasing. “Besides, you talk in your sleep, you know. I know it’s something, and I know it’s something to do with  _me_.”

Chizuru stiffened. “Wh…” she began, but a sob cut her off. The last thing she wants is for Okita to find out how much she needs him before she even understands why. “What did I say?”

“Just my name,” murmured Okita, his voice low in his throat. “But it was the  _way_  you said it that worries me.” Even now, he wasn’t going to make it easy for Chizuru. If she wanted to know, she would have to ask.

Chizuru swallowed. “Then…  _how_ did I say it?”

Okita looked at her guardedly, the expression behind his eyes veiled. “Like you were never going to see me again,” he said, and the corner of his mouth twitched up in a reflexive but humorless smile. “I sure hope being a demon doesn’t mean you have  _premonitions_ , because—”

“I-it wasn’t about the future,” mumbled Chizuru, inadvertently interrupting… and a moment later, it all came spilling out, along with the tears she had tried to hold back. “J-just after you were shot, you said I got in your way. You said I had Kaoru’s face, and you were going to k-kill me if I showed it to you again. And y-you said—!” Chizuru’s voice rose to a wail despite her best efforts. “You said you sh-should have told me all that so much s-sooner—!”

To her utter astonishment, Okita gathered her close to muffle her voice in his chest, paying no heed to her tears. “I’d be lying if I said that never crossed my mind,” he said softly, his fingers stroking her hair. “That you look like Kaoru. And sure, sometimes you can be a pain in the ass, but that doesn’t mean you’re in my way.” Okita let out a long sigh. “It was just a bad dream. That’s all.”

Even though his words were not especially comforting, Okita’s tone was so soothing after the almost animalistic growls and snaps in her dream that Chizuru found herself relaxing all the same. However precarious her emotions may have been, his presence alone was enough to steady her. “Go back to sleep, Chizuru-chan,” continued Okita. “I know you always say you’re fine sleeping on your own, but this morning, you’re staying here with me. That’s an order.”

Already halfway to succumbing to exhaustion once again, somewhere between crying herself to sleep and letting Okita’s comfort seep into her being, Chizuru could only muster a nod. She thought she heard the sound of a satisfied smile somewhere above her, but couldn’t be sure. Ordinarily, she might be concerned about the impropriety of sleeping next to a man… but if Okita had ordered her to remain by his side, instead of going away, that was all she could ever ask for. With luck, perhaps her dreams would reflect that change.

There was silence for a long time, and Chizuru started falling into the beginnings of a more peaceful sleep. But then Okita spoke quietly, his voice once again echoing into her soul, although Chizuru did not know whether he meant for her to hear: “I could never send you away now,” he murmured, his voice was barely audible, husky and somehow sad. “Here, you’re the only one I have left.”


	59. Shag Me – Okita/Chizuru

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Post-Okita's route: OkiChi. Rated E.

If you were to ask Souji how he could wait so long to marry Chizuru, he’d say it’s because she gave him so many sneak peeks of their wedding night.

This time starts with a kiss just after the day’s chores are done, but Souji can already taste where this is going. Chizuru only rubs up against him like this, like a cat, when she wants something more. She knows by now exactly the kind of friction to apply, a pressure that barely moves… just enough for him to chase it, to crave more.

But, best of all, she doesn’t even realize she’s doing it. Honestly, the innocence of Chizuru’s desire is more than enough to persuade Souji to accept her, even without the effect she has on him in a more physical sense. These delicious little bursts of pleasure she elicits with the insistent angling of her hip, her thigh, into his groin through layers of fabric…

“Easy, easy,” he mumbles into her lips, and pushes her gently back as she tries to lean the rest of the way in already. This is forward, even for this time of the month. Maybe this is a response to his mentioning that he was tired of making the first moves. This is better than he ever could have hoped: she’s practically cornered him.

But tables are meant to be turned. Souji tightens his grasp on Chizuru’s shoulders an instant before whirling her around to push her into the wall—just the way she likes it. Ever since the time she startled him and his reflexes activated in just such a way, he’s understood from the sheen of her eyes and the scent of her reaction that her wince is as much in excitement as in pain.

“So, what’ll it be today?” asks Souji, hand snaking into Chizuru’s kimono to find its usual mark. He knows her and her reactions well by now, and her intake of breath is accompanied by the dilation of her pupils, and he allows himself a smirk of satisfaction. “You gonna make me do all the work again, or do you want a turn?”

Chizuru’s cheeks, already rosy, turn redder still at his teasing reminder. Most of the time, she is willing to start him off, and permits him to touch her anywhere he likes, but she is too shy to touch him outright. That leaves finishing the job to Souji. Not that he minds, since he knows himself best, but it might be nice to see what  _she_  does. Even if she takes awhile to get the hang of it, he’s confident that her learning curve will be enjoyable.

As the silence drags on, Souji purses his lips. Maybe he’s gotten ahead of himself and pushed her too hard. Ordinarily, he wouldn’t risk it, but… if she’s already taking the initiative to this extent, maybe that’s her endgame. But, as he opens his mouth to tell her it doesn’t matter, Chizuru responds. And, to his astonishment, her answer comes not in words, but as a gesture.

Lifting her hand, she parts his yukata and reaches into his fundoshi… but hesitates, glancing up at his face to ascertain his permission. “Go ahead,” he invites her, half a dare or challenge, and she takes a deep breath. Closing her eyes, she reaches farther forward to slip her hand between skin and fabric, looking momentarily startled as her fingers brush his body. But then, they curl around him as if they belong there.

Now it’s Souji’s turn to take a deep breath, as he tries in vain to clear his head. If his blood hadn’t left it before, it was definitely gone now. “There,” he says, as encouragingly as he can. “You’ve got me. Now move.”

He waits, giving her a head start. She doesn’t know half as much about what she’s doing as he does, and it wouldn’t be fair to reduce her to a mewling mess before she has a fair chance at figuring out his own weaknesses. And, finally, Chizuru moves. Tentatively at first, and then more confident.

Still keeping one hand below Chizuru, poised to reciprocate, Souji takes his other hand to wrap around hers and teach her how he works. “You don’t have to be gentle,” he growls, and if it were possible, Chizuru flushes redder still. “I’m not about to break.”

Again, rather than respond in words, she puts his advice into practice instead, and Souji almost wishes she hadn’t taken it as she brings in her other hand to help. Time to get going; judging by his body’s enthusiastic response, she might be able to get this done faster than he thought. Fortunately, he has time to catch up: her focus suffers as his fingertips skim the surface a few times, then aggressively burrows his way deeper inside her.

So it goes, back and forth. Eyes closed, they feel their way through actions and reactions, letting one another be their guiding stars in daylight darkness. And, as their mingling breaths become halting, their movements starting to shudder—bodies automatically moving closer together to chase the heat, the moisture, the sheer sweet  _sensation_ —Souji senses the end coming, and opens his eyes.

“What’s the magic word?” whispers Souji, fingers twitching, and Chizuru twitches in turn, like a puppet. He’s held her over this precipice several times before. It’s only polite to say  _please_  if he is the only one involved. But something in her hesitation tells him it’ll be different this time, harmonizing with something in the throbbing of his pulse.

“ _You first_ ,” breathes Chizuru, twisting both her hands unexpectedly, and Souji convulses with the force of his euphoria. Blinding pleasure flashes across his field of vision, and he squeezes his eyes shut to protect himself from its all-pervasive light, biting back a vocalization.

Chizuru gasps as she feels his completion for herself, but Souji forces her to exhale again as he remembers to curl his fingers forward a few more times—more than enough to trigger her own climax, a mirror of his. As she cries out, somewhat more loudly than usual, her body weakens, and he moves forward to catch her as she slumps heavily into him.

Holding Chizuru close, Souji cradles the back of her head with his other hand, and they catch their breath. “Good?” he murmurs, his voice almost cracking, and clears his throat. Today has taught him that he needn’t fear for his own pleasure on their wedding night. (Whenever he gets around to proposing, anyway.)

“Good,” responds Chizuru, and he feels her smile into his shoulder. Souji kisses the top of her head, then moves back with unsteady step, taking her hand in tired triumph. They can change later; for now, it’s definitely time for another afternoon nap. He wouldn’t say no to an encore in his dreams.

“Good.”


	60. Shag Me – Harada/Chizuru

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Post-Harada's route: HaraChi; Harada and Shiranui bromance. Rated E.

If Harada wasn’t in love before, he definitely is now.

At this point, lovemaking isn’t anything new. Up till now, they’ve had a lot of time to wait for a ship to take them out of Japan, and that means a lot of practice. Harada likes to think he’s learned Chizuru’s patterns by now—exactly how and where to touch her, and that she’s so much less fragile than she appears—not to mention how much she loves his nips and nibbles—but somehow, she still manages to surprise him.

The pressure on Harada’s shoulder is tentative at first, but then stronger, and Chizuru’s eyes are full of fire as they lock with his. (She always knows exactly how to melt him.) Sliding to a halt mid-thrust, Harada searches her eyes for a reason. They’ve been at it for some time, but based on her breathing, there’s no way she’s finished already. Nor is she acting uncomfortable or apologetic enough to want to  _stop._ There’s only one reason she could be interrupting a moment like this…

“You want a turn on top?” murmurs Harada, and Chizuru hesitates—but then nods resolutely. Harada has to struggle against the urge to chuckle at the endearing earnestness of her expression, as though she expected to have to fight for her convictions.

Slowly, Harada leans aside, expertly shifting their weight together—without separating their bodies entirely, for which fact he is a little too proud—so that their positions are reversed, and Chizuru settles on top of him. Harada steadies her by the waist, opening his mouth to ask if she is all right… but she starts moving unexpectedly, and a faint vocalization escapes his lips instead. (And she just  _smiles_ at him, the little minx!)

Chizuru’s charmingly small frame has always felt to Harada as though it was made to complement his, but he never anticipated exactly  _how_  well-suited she would appear atop him. She seems so oddly dignified in this position that it feels almost as though he is acting as her throne. (Well, so be it; isn’t Chizuru technically a demon princess?)

Her motions start out uncertain, and then more decisive as she gets used to it. Though she says nothing, her face says it all. Her eyes are wide at first, perhaps in surprise at how different it feels, but then her countenance falls into a deep concentration as she works. Watching her through half-closed eyes, Harada finds himself fascinated by her fearlessness.

So fascinated, in fact, that he almost forgets to warn her.

“D-don’t work yourself too hard, now,” he pants, grabbing her hips to hold her still. When did his hold become so weak? “Keep up this pace, and you’ll wear us both out.”

“But I’m almost there!” retorts Chizuru, scowling at him petulantly as she brushes a few locks of hair out of her face, and Harada can’t help but grin. She looks as though he is depriving her of dessert, and twitches in place impatiently as if meaning to charge ahead anyway. Even as recently as a few months ago, Harada never would have guessed that such a shy and self-effacing little lady could be so boldin bed. And her confidence is…  _unbelievably_  attractive.

“So am I,” says Harada. “So be careful, all right? I don’t want to leave you behind after—after e-everyth—” His words are scattered as Chizuru keeps moving, and he supposes he has no choice but to trust her judgment. He also has no choice but to recognize that maybe he underestimated her stamina.

Not to mention, how close she really is.

“S-Sano _suke_?!” exclaims Chizuru, almost a question, and the end ripples through her… outside and in. Gripped down below by her involuntary undulations, Harada inhales so sharply he almost chokes, then lets out a coughlike cry as fiery bliss envelops his entire being. It’s unusual for him to make particularly much noise, but his very body insists on telling Chizuru how much her insistence really means.

They stay there for a little while, but the instant Chizuru relaxes, she wobbles in place, and Harada guides her safely back to his side as they separate. For a long time, they simply catch their breath and gaze into one another’s eyes, overflowing with love… and pride. Harada never expected Chizuru to take the reins like that, but he’d be damned if he let that position fall by the wayside. He’d have to ask her about that more often.

Eventually, Harada sits up, his body still buzzing pleasantly. Not having expended his usual amount of stamina, he needs to go for a walk. “I’m going to go out for a little fresh air,” he says, pressing a clumsy kiss to Chizuru’s forehead before getting to his feet and stretching (choosing to pretend he doesn’t notice her staring at his ass). “Do you want to come with?”

But Chizuru shakes her head, already snuggling deeper into their shared futon, and Harada laughs as he pulls on his pants. “You do deserve a good rest,” he says, stooping to ruffle her disheveled hair. “Be back in a minute, Chizuru.”

As soon as he shuts the door behind him and rounds the corner into an alleyway, however, someone clears their throat from just ahead of him. “You know,” says a familiar voice, “I was  _going_  to ask the girl demon if she was really okay marrying a human, but… somehow, I think I’ve already heard her answer.”

“Shiranui,” greets Harada, narrowing his eyes, and feels the heat rise to his cheeks despite his best efforts. Exactly how long was he listening in? “Never took you for the voyeuristic type.”

“Not my fault you two are loud,” says Shiranui, shrugging. “And demon ears are sensitive. I bet I’ll still be able to hear you across the sea.” He smiles, sharply, but Harada returns the gesture. He knows his words are intended as something of a backhanded compliment, or maybe some twisted congratulations. “Now go back inside and  _hold_  her, dipshit. I’ll be back tomorrow to see you off.”

“Shut up,” says Harada, struggling to keep a straight face, but Shiranui just grins, pats him briefly on the shoulder, and disappears.


	61. Amuse Me – Harada & Nagakura

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Unspecified route: Harada and Nagakura bromance; ambiguous NagaChi. Rated T. Originally requested by hakuyamazakisensei.

Something must be seriously wrong if offering to pay Shinpachi’s way isn’t enough to cheer him up.

“Seriously, Shinpachi, I can’t help if you don’t let me,” sighs Sano, after his seventeenth attempt to offer to buy him various things—everything from a tangerine to as many drinks as he can hold—falls flat. “Are you gonna tell me what’s wrong, or do I have to beat it out of you?”

“You  _can’t_ beat it out of me,” says Shinpachi dismissively. He’s not defensive enough for that to be the reason, so that narrows it down… but not by much. As far as Shinpachi is concerned, there’s not a lot in life that’s terrible enough that even drinking won’t fix it.

“Wanna bet?”

“With what?” asks Shinpachi, crossing his arms, and looks away sourly. “I’m totally broke. Again.”

“Yeah, and I offered to buy you shit!” retorts Sano, stung. Judging from that reaction, this is clearly a money-related issue, but then why would he refuse Sano’s generosity? He  _never_ said no. It was utterly unheard of.

“I don’t  _need_ anything!” insists Shinpachi, charging forward, and before Sano knows it, they’re wrestling, trying to throw one another to the ground.

It’s been awhile since they’ve tried fighting bare-handed, and at first, they throw all their weight into one another like novices. But as they remember their more formal training and start strategizing to conserve their strength instead of relying on brute force, Sano realizes that if Shinpachi’s grin is anything to go by, they’ve both missed this. Well, that’s fine by Sano; a smile is a smile.

The realization costs him the match, and Shinpachi successfully knocks him off-balance and watches him topple over. But he says nothing, just stands there over Sano for a few seconds before helping him up.

“So, are you gonna tell me what’s up, or not?” asks Sano, leaning against the nearest wall to catch his breath. “I think I’ve earned the right to know.”

Shinpachi hesitates, deliberating, but eventually sighs and hangs his head. “I just wanted to buy Chizuru-chan something nice for the new year,” mumbles Shinpachi, scratching his head. “ _With my own money_. Which I don’t have.”

Sano rolls his eyes. “Is that all?” he asks, throwing him his pouch of money. “Why didn’t you say so from the beginning? Consider that a loan.” He smiles at Shinpachi’s incredulity. “I’ll never understand how you can mooch off everyone all the time when it comes to food and drinks, then turn around and refuse to ask for actual money.”

“Well,  _that’s_ just begging,” says Shinpachi, pocketing the pouch with apparent reluctance. “But food and drinks, that kinda stuff comes with friendship. It’s what buddies do for each other.”

“More like what buddies do for  _you_ ,” chuckles Sano, turning away with a wave. “I’ll never understand you, Shinpachi. Let me know what you end up getting Chizuru, will you?” He debates saying to check in with him before buying anything, but frankly, he’s curious to see what exactly Shinpachi has in mind. It must be important, if he was this cut up about not having the funds.

“ _Keep your voice down_!” exclaims Shinpachi, glancing around as if in fear of being overheard, but Sano only laughs. Sooner or later, Shinpachi is going to have to learn there’s no shame in charity, whether giving or receiving. And Sano will wrestle him as many times as it takes for him to figure that out.


	62. Enamor Me – Heisuke/Chizuru

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Heisuke's route: fluffy HeiChi. Rated T.

Heisuke would be lying if he said this situation wasn’t at least half intentional.

It all started with Chizuru’s reaction to his Western wear and his haircut. At first, he thought he must have just looked funny, since it wasn’t exactly something either of them were used to. But when she stopped even trying to look at him, and turned as pink as her kosode… ah, that was the best feeling in the world. Chizuru  _liked_  the way he looked. So much so that Heisuke hadn’t been able to resist showing off for her a little.

Of course, even though Hijikata had called them out, Heisuke didn’t know for sure that his hunch was true. And truth be told, he was still terrified of screwing up what he and Chizuru had built over the years. But damn it, if there was one thing his life had taught him, it was that hesitating didn’t do him any favors. He wanted to feel that feeling again, of being watched and wanted… and he needed it so badly he couldn’t even fall asleep.

Taking a deep breath, Heisuke got up and crept out to the courtyard. Chizuru had readjusted her sleep schedule to match the furies’, but she was still diurnal at heart. If he was right, she’d still be awake too. And oh, if she came out to see what he was up to, he intended to give her a show and see if she still reacted the same way.

The only snag was that Heisuke had made a habit of sleeping in the clothes he was going to wear the next night, and Western wear was a lot harder to take off than his usual outfit. He stood there for what had to have been a few minutes, fumbling with all the buttons, before he managed to remove his vest and shirt and toss them aside. Finally, time for some good old-fashioned training.

Once he found a bokuto and started practicing in earnest, he found that even under morning sunlight, the training wasn’t actually the hard part. The hard part was remembering that the sun on his bare skin used to feel good, and that dawn used to be early for him instead of late. This was more like… an endurance test, for both his body and his soul.

But Heisuke could and would keep going. It didn’t matter how different he was from what he used to be, or what he had to do; he would survive. After all, Chizuru was there for him.

…No, really. She was  _there_ , just as Heisuke expected. Even though she said nothing, he saw her in his peripheral vision the second she slid open the door. Heisuke pretended not to see her, or feel her eyes burning into his skin as surely as the sun, but could barely suppress his triumphant smile. Knowing Chizuru, her frozenness had started as surprise, and now she was just zoning out. But that didn’t make it feel any less good to know he had captivated her.

But after a few minutes, Chizuru turned to leave without so much as a hello or a goodbye, and Heisuke dropped his façade and almost his bokuto. (In that way, he supposed he was actually lucky she’d turned her back.) “Chizuru,” he called softly, and she jumped, letting out an adorably startled yelp. Had she really thought he wouldn’t notice her? She wasn’t exactly camouflaged. “You can’t sleep, either?”

Chizuru shook her head, turning back to face Heisuke, but did not meet his eyes. Or even look at the rest of his body, anymore, though she did seem a little redder than usual. “Are you… okay, out in the sun like that?”

Heisuke fought the urge to heave a sigh. Even now, Chizuru’s first thought—or at least the first one she  _voiced_ —was of his well-being. She could stand to worry about herself a little more, in times like these. “I’ll be fine,” he told her. “A little sunshine isn’t gonna kill me. You’re proof of that.”

That was pretty smooth, if he did say so himself. Chizuru’s eyes widened at the unexpected compliment, and she jerked her face away from him again, as though that would somehow hide the fact that she had gone absolutely scarlet. “I-if you’re just going to tease me, then I’m going back to sleep!” she exclaimed. “Don’t stay out too late!”

“All right, all right,” laughed Heisuke. He could try to tell her that teasing her was the last thing on his mind, and that he was being completely serious, but she probably wouldn’t believe him yet. “Sorry. Sweet dreams, Chizuru.” With any luck, he’d given her enough material today to grant them.

“Er… you too,” stammered Chizuru, wavering in place for a moment as if unsure what to do with herself, but then disappeared back inside and shut the door hastily behind her. Heisuke thought he heard a sigh of relief from the other side of the door before her footsteps retreated, and grinned to himself. Even if only for a few short moments, he’d managed to distract Chizuru from her usual overwhelming concern, and that was no mean feat.

He couldn’t wait to tell Sano and Shinpachi when they came back.


	63. X Me – Hijikata & Okita

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Pre-game: Hijikata and Okita bittersweet bromance. Rated T. Originally requested by csilla-nocturine.

Souji had always been the most manageable when he was sleeping.

Of course, Souji would be  _more_ manageable if Hijikata hadn’t practically had to knock him out to keep him from going back to teaching Kondou’s students before he was feeling normal. Souji had insisted he was fine now that the measles rash was gone, but he was most definitely not fine. In no world did continuing to cough night and day qualify as ‘fine’. Hijikata didn’t even need his pseudo-medical background to know that much.

Letting out a long sigh, he sat back against the wall, looking Souji up and down in search of any changes. His breathing seemed deeper than usual, and not too ragged this time. He  _was_  improving, and if Souji would only stop arguing himself even hoarser, it’d stay that way. The sooner he got it through his head that ignoring his own well-being was more of a hindrance than a help, the better. Honestly, for someone who idolized Kondou so much, Souji had never quite understood where he was coming from.

…Or Hijikata, for that matter, though their relationship had been rockier from the start. If Kondou had taken the role of Souji’s adored big brother, Hijikata was the hated cousin. Yet he could never bring himself to be angry with Souji for long, no matter how insolently he treated him. In fact, Hijikata liked to think he understood him better than most, and from the way their eyes met sometimes during training or after it, Souji knew that too.

They had never been open about the parallels in their lives, but from what Hijikata had heard, they’d both harbored the same thirst to prove themselves since they were children. Both their original guardian siblings had practically abandoned them, too, though Hijikata’s family was at least large enough that he’d been able to go to his sister’s house instead of being forced to stay at a dojo. Hijikata, unlike Souji, had never felt alone.

But now, Souji had found a new family, for he and Hijikata—and everyone else in Shiei Hall, for that matter—felt the same way about Kondou. He had a way of inspiring everyone to do their best, and both Hijikata and Souji had resolved, independently of one another, to do everything in their power to make his voice more widely heard. For that reason, they could never hate one another, no matter how often or how intensely they clashed.

As a matter of fact, Hijikata was actually rather fond of Souji, in his own way. At least, when he  _kept his fucking mouth shut_. Not that he’d ever admit such a thing, especially since that rarely happened in the first place. The only times Souji actually behaved himself were when he was asleep, and the only times he slept this deeply were when he was deathly ill. Like now, even though the worst of it had thankfully passed.

Hijikata took a deep breath at the same time as Souji, though Souji’s exhalation was a shuddering one, followed by a weak bout of coughing. Even now, Hijikata still winced at the noise. Having lost a mother and a sister to tuberculosis when he was very young, he was altogether too familiar with the sound of suffering. Yet, at the same time, his instinctive anxiety brought with it an inexplicable nostalgia, a sense of almost familial camaraderie.

Perhaps this strange mixture of emotions was what it felt like to care for a younger sibling. Unconditionally, an obligation unable to be either escaped or fully understood. No matter how little Hijikata and Souji may have liked each other, they still respected one another deeply. (At the end of the day, for all his lack of propriety and good sense, Souji still called him ‘Hijikata- _san_ ’.)

“Water,” croaked Souji helplessly, and Hijikata started at the unexpected sound of his voice. Scrambling around the futon to kneel at Souji’s side, he brought the canteen carefully to his lips. Souji took a few long drafts, then swatted it feebly away once he decided he was done. It was still just an echo of his usual strength, but his formidable will still came across.

And Hijikata would be damned if he let that fade away so soon.

“Don’t die,” he murmured, before he even knew what he was saying. That was the most softly he had ever spoken to him—he’d barely been able to speak at all during the worst of this illness, such was his anxiety—but he knew better than to think even Souji could hold such a sentiment against him. They shared the sense of irrational pride that forbade them from speaking of such things plainly, after all.

Souji only swallowed dryly, the shadow of a petulant glare passing over his face. “I’m not… going  _anywhere_ … before you do.”

“That’s the spirit,” said Hijikata, relieved that Souji was finally feeling well enough to talk back, and the two of them shared a weary smile. So it seemed that this, too, would pass.


	64. Paint Me – Okita/Chizuru

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Okita's route: vaguely suggestive OkiChi. Rated T. Originally requested by something-wild-cat.

Chizuru supposed there were worse things she could have walked in on than Okita  _drawing_ , but that didn’t make her any less surprised to see all the paper lying scattered around his charcoal-stained futon.

More importantly, from the looks of things, he was quite good at it. She couldn’t see too many of the details, but several of them appeared to feature cats. However, her observations were cut short as Okita addressed her. “Chizuru-chan,” he greeted, not looking up from his current work. “Do you need something, or are you just going to stand there and stare at me?”

“I’m sorry,” said Chizuru. “I just… didn’t know you could draw, Okita-san.”

“Well, I can,” said Okita, rolling his shoulders in something between a shrug and a stretch. “Anyway, I’m not shy or anything, but there’s a bit of a draft. I don’t care which side of the door you end up on, but I’d appreciate it if you’d shut it.”

Jolting to action, Chizuru stepped fully into the room and slid the door softly shut behind her. “Did you… teach yourself?” she asked tentatively, daring to approach.

“Yeah,” replied Okita, still sketching. “This might be news to you, but lying in bed all day is kinda boring, so I’ve gotten in a lot of practice over the years. You can thank Yamazaki-kun for lending me the supplies.”

Chizuru knew from Okita’s dismissive tone that he meant that literally: he had no intention of thanking Yamazaki himself. Struggling not to roll her eyes, she knelt next to his futon. “Can I ask what you’re drawing now?”

“Mm-hmm.” When Okita said nothing further, only continued his work, Chizuru really did roll her eyes this time. Even if it was only a glance skyward. Why did he always have to be so literal?

“Then… what are you drawing now?”

“You,” responded Okita, so nonchalantly that Chizuru almost didn’t understand.

“M-me?” asked Chizuru, blinking a few times, once she had her wits about her. She didn’t particularly consider herself worth being drawn, especially since Okita’s only other subjects seemed to be cats and the occasional sword—both things he liked very much. Why would he even  _consider_  placing her among them when he always treated her like such a nuisance…?

Okita glanced over at her, eyes sparkling. “Is it that much of a surprise?” he asked, pausing in his sketch, and tilted his head. “You’re a pretty obvious subject. I mean, I  _do_  see you every day, whether I like it or not.”

Chizuru sighed, but her smile returned almost immediately. As frustrating as Okita’s teasing always was, It was honestly a relief to see that he was feeling a little better, even if it resulted in mischief. He’d been so listless for so long that she had begun to feel helpless. If drawing her helped somehow, then so be it.

“Do you want to see it?” asked Okita conversationally, setting down his charcoal. “I think this is as good as it’s gonna get.”

Chizuru stared at him. She’d been shocked enough that Okita would draw her to begin with, but to offer to  _show_ her? “I—I’d be honored, Okita-san,” she said, dipping her head awkwardly. But for some reason, Okita almost snorted, then coughed to cover it up. Chizuru found herself nonplussed by his derisive reaction, until he turned his paper around and held it up for her to see.

This was no ordinary portrait. Rather than her face, Okita’s drawing was of her back from the shoulderblades up. But… but… she wasn’t  _wearing_ anything! And her hair hung loose around her shoulders instead of up in its usual ponytail! “ _O-Okita-san_!” exclaimed Chizuru, face burning, and covered her eyes in shame. How could he do such a thing?!

It was admittedly a beautiful drawing, but the problem was that she couldn’t possibly be that pretty. Okita must have used someone else as a model, even if only from memory.  _That_  thought made her uncomfortable for reasons she didn’t want to think about yet, but she supposed it was better than the only other possibility, which was being spied on in the bath.

And wait—why would  _Okita_  draw such a thing in the first place?!

“Aw, is it really that bad?” asked Okita, and there was a rustle as though he was turning the paper around to look at it again. “In that case, do you mind giving me some reference? I’d like to check if I got it right, since I’ve never seen you like that before.”

“Then why did y—?!” Chizuru slid her hands from her eyes down to her mouth, taking a deep breath. She probably shouldn’t raise her voice at Okita, even if he  _had_ drawn her in such a way. Matsumoto might think something was seriously wrong and come bursting in, and the last thing Chizuru needed was for anyone else to see that.

“I just thought it’d be a fun project, okay?” said Okita, more than a little alarmed by the force of Chizuru’s reaction. “Keep your shirt on. Or… actually, on second thought, maybe  _don’t_.”

Even if Okita was joking, there was a time and a place, and that was the last straw. “I—I’m going to tell Yamazaki-san,” said Chizuru, leaping to her feet. “If you don’t have any drawing supplies, you might not waste your time drawing such ridiculous things!”

“All right, all right, fine,” conceded Okita, tossing her a look of mingling betrayal and resignation. “I’m sorry for drawing you without permission.” He may have been missing the point, but where Okita was concerned, Chizuru would take any apology she could get. “But if I can’t draw, I’m going to need something else to do.” Setting his latest work aside, he leaned back on his hands and tilted his head to look up at her. “ _You’ll_  entertain me, right?”

“As long as I don’t have to take off my clothes,” said Chizuru stiffly, crossing her arms in as stern a gesture as she could manage while she was still so flustered.

Okita grinned, but there was something sly about it. Almost like he knew something Chizuru didn’t. “Not if you don’t want to, Chizuru-chan,” he smiled, and that was when she knew she wasn’t out of the woods just yet.


	65. Drink Me – Heisuke

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Unspecified route: Heisuke and Saito bittersweet bromance; implied HeiChi. Originally requested by nekoneko-chan36.

They always told him he’ll never find happiness at the bottom of a sake jug, but it’s not like he can find it anywhere else now that he’s left the Shinsengumi.

Getting shitfaced  _really_  isn’t the same without the others, but at least he’s drunk enough to forget their names, so the hole in his heart doesn’t ache as badly, because it feels like there was never anything there. There was the loud jerk, and the one who never works through his own issues because he’s too busy helping everyone work through theirs. And… Chizuru.

…Shit. Nope, he’s nowhere near drunk enough if he can remember her so easily. Why he can recall her name and not his own, he doesn’t really want to know. It’ll probably just hurt more if he ever finds out.

“Heisuke?”

He groans. Tall, Dark, and Tofu. He’d offered to drink with him, but he’d turned him down for reasons he figured were good enough. It was probably stupid to reject the one person who knew where he was coming from, but really, he kinda deserves to suffer. Maybe he’ll get alcohol poisoning and die, and then they’ll be sorry. Or maybe he’ll be the sorry one.

No, wait, that’s too depressing. Drinking’s supposed to be fun, right?

“Heisuke.”

“What,” he says finally, squinting at his companion. Why does he have to blend in with the night all the time? And why would he remind him of who he’s supposed to be when that’s exactly what he’s trying to forget? “Don’ even  _try_  tellin’ me to lay off. I’ma keep drinkin’ till the sun comes up and youuuu can’ stop me.”

But Hajime—oh, yeah, that’s his name, huh—only shakes his head and sits next to him. Seiza, as usual. Would it kill him to loosen up a little? Lighten up? Some phrase like that. Words are hard. “I don’t intend to stop you,” says Hajime, letting out a short sigh. “But if there’s any sake left… I need some too.”


	66. X Me – Kodo & Chizuru

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Pre-game: Kodo and Chizuru familial feels, plus some Kaoru on the side. Rated T.

As much as Kodo despised humans—all the more so, now that the village still smoldered in his mind—he supposed he  _was_  lucky to have associated with them long enough to set up a clinic in Edo. And that no one caught him returning home, late at night, with two small children.

One of them, deeply unconscious.

Even Kodo, with all his medical expertise, could not offer a proper diagnosis for Chizuru’s condition. It was as though her tiny soul had given up and shut down rather than face the horror that had befallen her hometown and her family. And Kodo, still tending to her bedside weeks later, couldn’t blame her.

A short time after they’d settled down in Kodo’s clinic, the Nagumo family had sent a letter to Kodo’s address. In it, they’d offered their condolences, and volunteered to take Chizuru in. They’d said it was so they could groom her into a demon worthy of her mother, but Kodo knew very well that they merely coveted her status as a female.

Of course, Kodo hadn’t really intended to entertain such an idea, but his livelihood also wasn’t so lucrative that he could afford to take care of himself  _and_  two children. So, against his better judgment, he’d resolved to sleep on the decision. His mistake had been leaving the letter on the table before he’d gone to bed.

Kaoru had awakened him the next morning, having insisted on keeping an eye on Chizuru all night… but he must have read the Nagumo’s offer, because his morning greeting had been, “I’ll go.” Even at his young age, it seemed he was determined to protect his sister by any means necessary. “I’ll dress up as her and go. You can’t take care of both of us forever, right?”

“Kaoru-kun,” had been all Kodo could say in response. “Are you sure?”

And Kaoru had bowed, lower than Kodo had ever seen such a proud child bow in his life. “Please,” he said, staring at the floor. “Let me go. I’m a boy, but my blood is pure. I’ll be good, so they’ll leave her alone.” And Kodo, overwhelmed by Kaoru’s selfless strength of will, had had little choice but to relent.

The preparations had not taken long. After alerting the Nagumo to the fact that he would take them up on their offer (on the condition that they never contact any member of his household again in any way), they’d agreed. So Kodo had dressed Kaoru in a feminine kimono, and had been almost ashamed to note the resemblance to Chizuru. It was a perfect disguise; with any luck, Kaoru would be able to keep it up for some time.

“Tell Chizuru I love her,” Kaoru had said, eyes brimming with tears he refused to let fall, and scowled stubbornly at her sleeping face. “When she wakes up.”

That had been days ago. Gazing down at Chizuru, Kodo wondered when she  _would_  wake. He had tended comatose patients before, but never so young, and rarely for so long. What if there were complications, and he could not identify them in time? What if Chizuru never awakened at all? Kodo had already sent one of the Yukimura children far away, to a family known for its instability. If he let the other one die, he would truly be a failure, as a demon and as a man.

As though that desperation had moved her, Chizuru stirred faintly, and Kodo held his breath, waiting, waiting. It was probably only seconds, but it felt like an eternity before her eyelids finally fluttered open, and she looked over at him. Confused, yet also keenly interested.

Judging from her expression and the clarity of her eyes, Chizuru was lucid and certainly not blind, yet the first word out of her mouth was still, “Father?”

Kodo gazed down at Chizuru in astonishment. As a distant relative of her mother’s, he did not resemble her late father in the slightest. But at the hope and fright intermingling in her expression, an innocent vulnerability that told him she would believe anything he told her, Kodo found that he must agree.

“Y-yes,” said Kodo, taking Chizuru’s little hand in his. As her guardian, he could play her father for a time, at least until something jogged her memory. “I’m so glad you’re safe, Chizuru.” He bit back the instinctive epithet. If he was to become her father, it was no longer necessary.

“Chizuru,” she echoed in a small voice. “That’s me, right? What… happened?”

So she hadn’t even remembered her name until Kodo had said it. That wasn’t a good sign. “You just had an accident,” said Kodo, swallowing his anxiety. “You fell and hit your head while you were playing. But you’re safe now.”

Chizuru nodded slowly. “I’ll be more careful, Father.”

“Good,” said Kodo, waiting for Chizuru to say more… but she only closed her eyes again, this time in ordinary slumber. It seemed that all she had needed to know in order to be comfortable had been who she was, who Kodo was, and what had happened to her. She had not asked about Kaoru, her mother, the demons, or the fate of her village. What if she didn’t remember them? What if she  _never_  remembered them?

Kodo apologized to Kaoru in his mind, hoping his love could reach Chizuru through their still-connected hands. Passing on her brother’s message at this point would raise more questions than he could possibly answer. He could not bear to hurt her with the truth when her mind seemed so insistent on forgetting. It would be better for Chizuru to find out in her own time… if she ever did.

Until then, Kodo would play the role in which she so unwittingly cast him, and pray he was equal to the task.


	67. Unbind Me – Yamazaki/Chizuru

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Canon-divergent route (includes elements of Sakamoto's): mild YamaChi. Rated T.

Of all the men who kept trying to kidnap her during her stay in Kyoto, Chizuru never anticipated that the one who finally succeeded would be  _Sakamoto_.

They’d hardly ever met before, so Chizuru had absolutely no idea what he was trying to do until he asked about the furies. Sakamoto must have found out she was a member of the Shinsengumi somehow, and decided that she was the easiest to trap and the lightest to carry. And probably the most easily breakable.

Chizuru couldn’t deny that she was too curious for her own good and basically a featherweight, but Sakamoto would find out how tough she was the hard way. Not that she’d been trained in enduring potentially violent interrogations, but if she’d learned anything from Yamazaki over the years, it was to keep a level head at all times and say no more than necessary.

Honestly, as serious as this situation was, Chizuru kept feeling the strangest urge to laugh. Did Sakamoto really think tying her up and throwing her in a dark room would be enough to frighten her? The most  _that_  did was limit her options for an escape plan. Having been through much worse than this, she couldn’t help but think they were going easy on her. And that would be their downfall.

(Really, if anyone wanted to make Chizuru talk, they’d have done better to threaten the Shinsengumi instead. But what they didn’t know would only hurt  _her_ , and under the circumstances, that was as much as she could hope for.)

In the midst of reflecting on her surroundings, Chizuru stiffened as her train of thought was cut unceremoniously short. What was that noise…? Sakamoto couldn’t possibly be back for her already. His voice was still coming from downstairs, discussing something with Nakaoka. But  _someone_  had definitely started sliding open the door.

Holding her breath and trying to ignore her suddenly racing pulse, Chizuru stared intently at the door. The hall outside wasn’t much brighter than the unlit room in which she had been imprisoned, so she could see only the faintest of silhouettes slipping through the gap.

Shifting in place, Chizuru tried her utmost to think who it might be and what they wanted with her, but came up empty. Had Sakamoto sent someone up to wring the information out of her in his stead…? As a demon, she knew very well that her pain tolerance was high, but the prospects of having to withstand torture were far from appealing.

“Yukimura-kun.”

At the sound of Yamazaki’s voice, low and quiet, a surge of relief rushed through Chizuru, powerfully enough that she felt weak in its aftermath. Given the hour, she’d practically ruled out a rescue operation, forcing herself not to assume anyone would save her. Especially not… “Are you hurt?”

Chizuru shook her head as Yamazaki approached. “They just tied me up,” she whispered urgently. “My hands and feet…”

Yamazaki paused. “My night vision may be good, but I’d rather not risk cutting the ropes until I know I won’t cut you too,” he said. “I’m sorry.” Whether he was apologizing for leaving her tied up or for picking her up so suddenly, Chizuru neither knew nor cared. Her thoughts seemed to scatter as he tucked one arm beneath her knees and used the other to support her back.

Moving swiftly, Yamazaki carried Chizuru almost effortlessly toward the door, easing it open just enough for the two of them to pass through it sideways. Then, it was only a matter of making their way to the window at the end of the hall, which he had left open from coming in.

Unfortunately, this drew some attention, as there was a lull in the conversation downstairs. “Feel that?” asked Sakamoto’s voice, but where Chizuru might have frozen, Yamazaki did not stop. “Seems like there’s a bit of a draft. You don’t think someone managed to open the window?”

“I’ll check,” replied Nakaoka’s voice, but Yamazaki was already slipping outside. There was no time to close the window after them, but they were moving quickly enough that they could at least get a head start.

As Yamazaki stepped onto the rooftop and hurried around a corner, Chizuru realized—perhaps for the first time—how strong he really was. He wasn’t as obviously musclebound as Nagakura or as imposing as Hijikata, but he was still a man, and he still had considerable upper body strength.

Chizuru blushed as she realized abruptly that she had begun thinking of Yamazaki in such a way, and shivered in his arms. Now wasn’t the time to be thinking something like this…!

“Are you all right?” asked Yamazaki, setting her down softly next to a lamp so they could see her ropes, and knelt next to her. “I’m sure you were frightened, but I’m proud of you for keeping so calm. If you’d kicked up a fuss, they might not have let their guard down, and that would have made it a lot harder for me to come for you.”

As he spoke, Yamazaki drew a small knife and slit the ropes binding Chizuru’s wrists, and she felt her heart grow almost tangibly warmer.  _I’m proud of you_. Had he ever said something like that to her before…? “Thank you,” murmured Chizuru. “For saving me.” Yamazaki only nodded, but a small smile played about his lips, and she found herself mirroring it. This was enough for now; there would be time for more later.

Once Chizuru’s hands were free, Yamazaki proceeded to her feet. The touch of his gentle hand on her calf startled her, even through fabric, and she had to force herself to keep still. She couldn’t afford to get embarrassed over such a trivial detail. It didn’t mean anything; he was just steadying her so he didn’t cut her clothing or skin. (But that didn’t change the fact that it still felt intimate…)

Though Yamazaki hesitated for a fraction of a second, perhaps sensing her nervousness, there was no time to waste: Nakaoka yelled something to Sakamoto. Tugging his knife the rest of the way through the rope, Yamazaki yanked his bandana over his nose and mouth, glancing around in search of an escape route.

He found one almost instantly. “Jump down after me,” ordered Yamazaki, rising, and looked down at Chizuru as she rubbed her aching ankles. “I’ll catch you.”

“Wh-what?” asked Chizuru, but Yamazaki had already vaulted himself off the roof, grabbing onto the edge of the rooftop and dropping down easily.

Chizuru crawled forward, staring down. She’d never been particularly afraid of heights, but from this perspective, it looked like a much farther drop than it probably was. What if she accidentally landed on top of him, and injured him? What if she stayed paralyzed just like this, and couldn’t do anything at all?

Thankfully, Yamazaki’s voice broke into her thoughts before she could panic. “ _Hurry_ ,” he hissed, wide-eyed, and held out his arms. Chizuru took a deep breath, centering herself. This was do-or-die, maybe literally, and if there was one thing she would not risk, it was Yamazaki’s safety. Swallowing, she said a brief prayer in her head and leapt off the building.

It wasn’t a well-executed jump, but it was good enough. Yamazaki caught her, squeezing the breath from her lungs, and moved back with her momentum to avoid staggering. Yet, though Chizuru spent only a moment in his arms, it felt like it stretched on forever. His warmth pressed against her, his inexplicably comforting scent wreathing around her, before he set her down. “Let’s go,” murmured Yamazaki, taking Chizuru’s hand, and pulled her along.

Through back alleys and around corners, dodging and weaving and taking the long way around to lose anyone who might be chasing them, Chizuru and Yamazaki made their winding way back to the compound. And all the while, their hands remained comfortingly clasped, reminding her of his constant presence. There wouldn’t need to be any more rescue missions now that the two of them were together.

They were still holding hands by the time they arrived back at the compound, but Chizuru didn’t notice until Hijikata—waiting for them at the entrance—raised his eyebrows at them. “Nice work,” he told Yamazaki, and Chizuru blushed as she realized that he could be referring to any number of things. “Everyone’s inside, waiting for a report. Hold on or let go, I don’t care, but hurry it up.”

“Yes, Commander,” said Yamazaki, striding forward to follow Hijikata into the commons, but did  _not_  let go of Chizuru’s hand.


	68. Unbind Me – Idiot Trio

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Unspecified route: Idiot Trio bromance. Rated T.

As it turned out, the best way to find a nest of rebels was  _apparently_  to get kidnapped and taken to their base of operations.

Sano was no stranger to inciting drunken arguments, so just his luck, he was chosen to try it. After all, as Shinpachi put it—the hypocrite—Sano was a natural at pissing people off. All he had to do was make sure not to go overboard in provoking them, or he might not survive the trip.

The  _plan_  was for some members of the Watch to follow the ronin to their base, spring Sano, and report back. There’d been a few complaints about the way the Shinsengumi had been conducting business lately, and most of them came from Itou. Having an actual reason for a raid beyond just suspicion might lessen some of the tension.

But at this point, Sano should have known that where the Shinsengumi was concerned, things rarely went according to plan.

He got to the base in one piece, if a little drunk… though getting kidnapped did sober him up a little. Mostly because throwing the match after putting up a believable fight took some concentration. And besides that, those ronin had taunted Sano all the way, which made it  _really_ hard to feign unconsciousness. This may have been for the Shinsengumi’s sake, but humiliating himself wasn’t really his style. That was more Heisuke’s deal.

Thankfully, they’d also discussed their plan along the way, so it wasn’t a total loss. Apparently, they were planning to ransom him, which was an interesting twist. Siphoning funds out of the Shinsengumi was an undeniably effective scheme. They didn’t have a lot to begin with, and money talked just as much as people. If they wanted to start shifting influence away from the shogunate, this was actually a decent way to go about it.

…But somehow, Sano doubted these guys were really bright enough to think too hard about political implications. More likely, they just wanted some revenge and some cash, and figured this would be the fastest way to get both.

Given that Sano had been gagged, small talk wasn’t an option, or he might try talking to the ronin stationed in the room with him to see if he could figure out anything else about his situation. Or maybe even just to pass the time. The second phase was a longer time coming than Sano thought it should be.

Much,  _much_  longer.

It must have been hours before anything actually happened. Sano might have started dozing off if he wasn’t getting worried. It came to a head as someone yelled something from outside, like they’d apprehended somebody. (The Watch?) And the commotion didn’t stop, either, so whatever was going on might end up turning dangerous.

Fortunately, the guard seemed to be getting nervous too, more and more as the seconds dragged on without a clear resolution. Eventually, he glanced between Sano and the door a few times before deciding that Sano couldn’t go anywhere anyway, drew his sword, and bolted out.

Sano stared at the wall, half trying to pierce through it with his eyes to see what was going on. But thankfully, he didn’t have to wonder for long. Almost as soon as the guard left, two familiar figures slipped in—but they weren’t Shimada and Yamazaki. They were Shinpachi… and Heisuke…?

Sano could only blink at them before Heisuke scrambled over and cut the gag. And a few strands of hair, but that was better than his head. Sano couldn’t complain, anyway. “Shinpachi?” asked Sano, blinking at them. “Heisuke?”

“Yo, Sano,” said Shinpachi, smirking, and struck an unnecessarily cool pose (leaving Heisuke to do the actual rescuing by slicing through Sano’s ropes). “Sorry we were late. This place is pretty well-defended. I guess those idiots aren’t actually as dumb as they look.”

“I thought the  _Watch_  was supposed to…” began Sano, wincing, and got to his feet unsteadily as soon as his ankles were free. The sake may have worn off by now, but being bound and gagged for hours wasn’t exactly comfortable. He supposed it could have been worse, but as soon as they were out of danger, he was going to punch Shinpachi’s lights out for nominating him for this.

“Oh, those two got hung up on the guards,” said Shinpachi nonchalantly, as though this situation were perfectly ordinary. “We were supposed to be the diversion, and they were supposed to get you out, but it looks like our roles got reversed. But I’ll have you know, we can do the job just as well!”

“Hey, shut up,” said Sano, listening hard. Were those… footsteps? The Watch may not have been his friends, but they certainly wouldn’t have been so obvious about breaking in.

Shinpachi scowled at him. “Listen here,  _damsel in distress_ ,” he complained. “Is that any way to talk to your knights in shining arm—” Sano clapped a hand over his mouth to keep him from talking, but it was too late. They’d been found.

“Hey!” exclaimed one of the ronin, sword already drawn, and called back as if for reinforcements. “Prisoner’s escaping!”

“Who’s a prisoner?” snapped Sano, but had little choice but to step back. There was only so much he could do without his weapons handy, so it looked like he had little choice but to prove Shinpachi right. (That idiot was definitely in for the ass-whooping of his life later.)

“Oh no,” said Shinpachi, grinning at complete odds with his words, and drew his sword. “Looks like we’re gonna have to fight our way out after all. You ready, Heisuke?”

“Make sure to leave ’em alive, Shinpatsu-san!” exclaimed Heisuke, shifting his grip on the sword. “That’s the whole point of all this, y’know!”

“Yeah, if you made me suffer like that for nothing, I’ll kill you both myself,” threatened Sano, but his words were drowned out as the fighting started. It was the kind of fight that was so lopsided that it only took a few decisive movements to end. The kind of fight Sano had been forced to throw.

Within seconds, the assailants were on the ground, unconscious with a couple minor wounds—but Sano couldn’t bring himself to congratulate his friends on their skill when they were so intent on making him look bad. Not aloud, anyway. Privately, he praised each of them in turn. Work that quick was admittedly pretty impressive.

“All right,” said Heisuke, beaming proudly, and tossed Sano a glance as if to ask for compliments.  _Showoff_. “Mission accomplished.”

“Not till we get out of here it isn’t!” hissed Sano, snatching one of the ronin’s swords before the three of them started moving, but couldn’t help but smile all the same. Shinpachi and Heisuke may be making him look bad, but Sano got the feeling they might’ve set this up so he’d learn to rely on them a little more once in a while.

“Hey, Shinpachi—Heisuke?” said Sano, but heard only a grunt and a ‘hm?’ in return. “Thanks.”

Shinpachi smiled. “No problem,” he said, but immediately ruined the moment by continuing, “If you ever wanna know how weak you are, I’m happy to show you anytime!”

“Yeah!” chimed in Heisuke, eyes sparkling mischievously in the lamplight. “So don’t get too full of yourself next time, old man!”

“I hate you guys,” laughed Sano, meaning just the opposite, and the three of them charged out into the darkness.


	69. Nurse Me – Saito & Yamazaki

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Canon-divergent route (combines Saito's and Yamazaki's): Saito and Yamazaki bromance. Rated T. Originally requested by hakuyamazakisensei.

They both knew, somewhere deep down, that overwork didn’t do anyone any favors—but of the two of them, it was Yamazaki who finally said something first.

“Saito-san,” he greeted, bowing. “May I have a moment of your time?”

“Make it quick,” responded Saito, in his usual direct-yet-somehow-not-impolite manner, but did not look up from his work. He was busy transcribing official documents again, it seemed.

Yamazaki seated himself a respectful distance away, cleared his throat, and began. “Yukimura-kun came to see me the other day.”

Saito stopped writing, but still did not look at Yamazaki. “And?”

“She told me you  _collapsed_ ,” said Yamazaki, daring to scowl at him. “That you have now suffered from the bloodlust twice in one month because you have failed to take adequate care of yourself. And, as a former doctor, I cannot allow this to cont—”

“Your concern is noted,” interrupted Saito flatly, with a sense of finality, and resumed his work. “Thank you for the advice, but I cannot stop now. You of all people should know that.”

“I do, but it is not  _my_  concern that troubles me,” said Yamazaki, almost snapping. “Have you considered that your lack of self-care is negatively affecting Yukimura-kun’s performance as well as your own? The tea she served while we spoke of your condition was practically undrinkable.”

“What?” asked Saito, frowning in genuine confusion. Apparently, it was news to him how much Yukimura really cared. Yamazaki struggled not to stare at him incredulously. How could he be so preoccupied with his own (largely self-imposed) duties that he failed to notice something so obvious…?

“I don’t mean to speak out of line, Saito-san, but you  _do_  need to rest,” said Yamazaki firmly. “Even furies cannot go without sleep for long, especially during the daylight hours. I know I no longer have the authority to give medical orders myself, but I can and will ask Hijikata-san to order you to stop if need be.”

Saito glowered. “I believe that is commonly known as ‘blackmail’.”

“The reason I am alive to tell you this in the first place is because I will do anything and everything in my power to protect the Shinsengumi,” said Yamazaki. “That includes making sure its officers remain healthy by any means necessary. I intend no disrespect, Saito-san, but if you continue resisting, I am willing to knock you out myself if it means you will rest.”

“If our sparring matches are any indication, I doubt you  _could_ ,” muttered Saito, eyeing Yamazaki mistrustfully.

Yamazaki sighed. If Saito was willfully missing the point to this extent, there was nothing more he could do tonight. “If you don’t comply, you may find out,” he said, getting to his feet. “For now, I mean only to warn you that this cannot continue. It is your choice whether to change your behavior or not, but be warned that there  _will_  be consequences if you keep this up.”

Saito did not react at first, and Yamazaki was not sure whether he ever would, but he spoke again unexpectedly as Yamazaki reached the door. “Yamazaki,” said Saito, and he halted, glancing over his shoulder. “Yukimura has spoken to me of  _your_  condition, too. Be sure to take better care of yourself in the coming days, or there will be dire consequences for you as well.”

“Your concern is noted,” said Yamazaki dryly, knowing from the nature of their conversation that he would not be punished for speaking out of line. “Thank you for the advice, but I cannot stop now.” And, as he closed the door between them, he thought he heard Saito chuckle briefly in response.


	70. Working Out the Kinks

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Unspecified route: vaguely suggestive HaraShira; Yamazaki humor. Rated T. Partly based on a true story. Suggested by reincarnated-regret.

Of course the one time Shinpachi turns out to be even remotely observant is the time Sano is trying to hide the bite marks on his neck.

“Oy, Sano, you never wear your hair down like that,” remarks Shinpachi, leaning against the wall, and startles Sano as soon as he enters the compound. Sano sighs internally; he’s never been good at sneaking around. “Did you lose your hair tie fighting that asshole, or something like that?”

“Something like that, yeah,” says Sano, rubbing his neck surreptitiously. He didn’t intend to let that go so far, but man, Shiranui really did a number on him this time. The semicircles on each side of his throat are much more pronounced than after the last visit, almost as red as his hair. Most of the marks should fade by tomorrow, but  _Shiranui’s_  skin cleared before Sano even left.

(What he wouldn’t give to be a demon…)

“Must’ve lost your little duel, if you’re looking that guilty about it,” says Shinpachi, grinning, and claps Sano on the shoulder. Sano almost buckles at the unexpected impact, wincing as a stray bite twinges, and Shinpachi eyes his reaction in some confusion. “Hang on—did he seriously hurt you?”

Sano hesitates, but then nods once. There was no easier way to explain his condition in the moment. “Nothing a little rest won’t fix,” he says, as confidently as he can. Telling Shinpachi he was going to face off against Shiranui seemed reasonable in the moment, if only so they’d know who killed him if he never came back, but it created a lot of unforeseen complications after the fact.

“ _No_  no no no no,” says Shinpachi, grabbing Sano’s other arm a little more gently. “We’re headed for Fushimi tomorrow, so we need you in good condition, and demons are no joke. You’re going straight to Yamazaki!”

“Wait, since when are you my mother?!” protests Sano, but Shinpachi’s grip will not be denied, and he is dragged unceremoniously down the hall. “It’s nothing, I promise! I’ll be fine!”

Why did he tell Shinpachi he was going to settle a score with Shiranui? Why didn’t he just say he was headed to Shimabara, so he’d at least have an excuse for this?! …Probably because Shinpachi would have insisted on going with him, come to think of it. Okay, so maybe that was the right call; it just had its downsides, too.  _Serious_  downsides.

Well, thinks Sano, resigning himself to his fate and ceasing his futile struggles, at least Yamazaki has probably seen everything by now. And at least he’s under no obligation to explain whogave him those bites.

* * *

Once Sano convinces Shinpachi that he can speak for himself—an aching neck doesn’t mean his vocal cords don’t work—and further convinces Yamazaki to make sure he isn’t eavesdropping, to avoid having to keep a story straight, the dreaded examination begins.

“So your neck hurts, Harada-san?” asks Yamazaki matter-of-factly, readjusting his sleeves. “That’s a decent problem to have, all things considered. I can work out those knots, and you’ll be good as new before tomorrow.”

“Uh, I’d… rather you didn’t,” stammers Sano, moving his hair back slowly by way of explanation, and holds his breath as Yamazaki turns his eyes to his neck. (Critical as his gaze may be, it’s still not as sharp as Shiranui’s teeth.)

Their last visit was bad enough, but at least Shiranui had the courtesy to leave only a couple faint marks in convenient places, easily ignored or played off as simple bruises. This time, Sano wasn’t so lucky. It seems  _you’re mine_ has a few different connotations whispered on his skin just before a bite than it does in the heat of battle, but it feels the same. Just… a pleasure more often repeated, this time, and reciprocated between tenderer kisses.

But to his astonishment, after taking in the extent of the damage, Yamazaki only sighs. “I know this may come as a surprise to you, but I don’t actually care what your neck looks like or why,” he says, frowning almost fiercely. “You’re in pain, and I know how to make it better. Now relax and let me  _help_.”

“No, that’s…” Sano trails off. Trust Yamazaki to think he’s just self-conscious about the evidence of his latest escapade. Admittedly, it’s nice not to be judged—though Sano is sure that would change if Yamazaki knew the whole truth. But what kind of person convinces themselves so completely that the problem is a wrenched neck that they ignore factual evidence to the contrary…?

Sano takes a deep breath. “He bit my neck, Yamazaki,” he says shortly. “Those are bite marks. That’s why it hurts. I’m  _pretty sure_  you can’t really massage those out.”

It takes a moment before understanding dawns on Yamazaki’s face. “Oh,” he says, coloring slightly, and looks away. “So it would hurt. If I touched them. During the massage.”

“ _There_  we go,” says Sano, getting to his feet. “Anyway, it’s really nothing to worry about. I’ll be fine by morning.” He strides over to the door and opens it. “Sorry Shinpachi decided to burst in here like it was some kind of emergency.”

Yamazaki nods, but something about the motion seems distracted, and his eyes are somewhere between questioning and wary as he raises them to Sano’s face. “ _He_ bit your neck?” asks Yamazaki, tilting his head, and Sano realizes his mistake too late.


End file.
